Page 208 of Fury

“I suppose it’s not a coincidence that Tricky’s been out of town all this week?” Her pointed question hung in the semi-darkness.

“Does that bother you?” I pulled off my long-sleeved shirt, tossing it to the side.

Her eyes darted over my bare chest. “No.”

I unfastened my leathers, dropping them to the floor, but her eyes remained on mine.

The silence was skittish and fragile between us. A colt finding its legs, wanting to sprint, yet not sure how.

“Did you have dinner?” she asked. “I have barley soup I can warm up for you.”

She’d changed the subject.Good.

“I’m fine,” I replied.

“Okay.” She chewed on her lip, studying me.

“You nervous with me?”

“A little, yeah.” She licked her lips. “I’m not used to—”

Real intimacy? Raw vulnerability?

“Yeah. Me neither.” I rubbed a thumb down her damp lips, and they parted for me.

She squirmed on the bed. It was a slow movement, an uncoiling of pent up anxiety, need, and desire. I bent over her and kissed her slowly, gently peeling away at that anxiety. Baring the need, unfurling the desire. I pulled a moan from her, and then another. Her hands went to my beard, my neck, and she opened her mouth fully, our lips enthralled in a search and discovery of taste and sensation. I gripped her jaw and nipped a trail down her throat and over to that spot below her ear that would always give her the chills. And there—she let out a cry, her flesh quivering—Yeah, there it was.

She grabbed at me, pulling us closer, her chest crashing into mine, her hips grinding slightly. I wiped her blue hair back from that beautiful face. I wanted to see her face. Her cheeks had reddened, liquid eyes heavy. Staring at each other, we caught our breaths. She released me, her one arm falling back over her head, the fingers of her other hand moving to her damp, swollen lips as she watched me, not saying a word. Watched and waited and wondered.

I wanted to give her plenty to wonder at.

I gave her the brandy and she finished it.

“What’s this?” I gestured at four small labeled glass bottles on her night table.

“Perfumed oils from different botanicals. I’ve been creating scents for men and women to sell at the store. I was playing with different scent combinations tonight.”

I opened a bottle. Sandalwood. Another. Cinnamon. Another was orange. The last, bergamot. A larger bottle was coconut. The base. I sat up and threw the thin sheet off her, she was naked like she was every night.

“Lie back.”

She pushed up on the bed. “What are you—”

“Baby.”

She gnawed on the edge of her lower lip again and laid back down. I rubbed some coconut oil between my hands then dripped perfumed oil from the other bottles and rubbed again. I laid my warm hands between her breasts and stroked down her middle, and she let out a gasp. I rubbed in circles, small motions as I wedged my body between her legs, spreading them wide. My hands massaged up to her shoulders, down her arms, applying sure, slippery strokes. The concentrated scents filled the air, inviting the heat and energy to rise from her skin like holy fucking vapors.

She was my altar, and I was praying, making vows, uttering devotions.

Her flesh seemed to flow under my touch, her breath shortening, her muscles going limp. I stroked down to the inside of her thighs and back up again, around her breasts to her throat, around her neck, behind her ears.

“Finger…” Her voice floated.

She was in a trance, under my spell. And I was under hers.

“I want to see you like this in the light. Like that first time in the motel, remember? That was new for us, intense in a different way. I want to see you in the light now, Sunshine. Want to see it all.”

Her lips parted, her eyes swirls of deep blue green. Her body melted under my hands, her desire rising like a cloud of perfume. I was touching her, opening her deeper, engaging her energy with mine.

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