Page 45 of Through the Wicked Wood

She slides her hand up my back then combs her fingers through my hair before gripping the back of my neck. “Don’t.”

Chapter 24

Elora

Sorin’s hands are rough and calloused against the smoothness of my skin. With one hand gripping the back of my neck and the other resting on top of my thigh, we sit in momentary silence, sharing each other’s breaths. I lean into the weight of his hand on the back of my neck, letting it sear me like a brand. I almost told him to stop, that this can’t be what he wants, but my selfishness kept my mouth quiet.

My breathing is already ragged and the intensity of his kiss catches me so off guard, any breaths that come next are now an afterthought. The initial shock of his lips, soft and full, turns to fire, molten and destructive. Every part of me is ignited by his touch, even the parts of me that have laid dormant for so long begin to rouse. As if he is the only one who could break me from the hazy fog I’ve been living in. Or maybe it’s us together that awakens those parts of me. A pang of familiarity shoots through me. Like my body knows his in all the ways it shouldn’t.

His grip on my neck is firm as he pulls me into him, leaving his other hand to wander my body before grabbing me by the hips. I move to wrap my legs around his waist. Hoisting me up with one hand, he positions me so I’m straddled across his lap. The firmness of him presses between my legs, and I bite down softly on his bottom lip to stifle a moan. All sense of rationality is lost on me and in this moment, he is all I see.

Hear.

Taste.

Our mouths never leave each other except for quick breaths between kisses. As if separating would break the spell we’re under. Heat spears down my spine and it isn’t long before it settles between my legs. Rolling my hips forward, Sorin scrapes his teeth along my neck, dragging his tongue followed immediately by a kiss. Then, my collarbone. My chest. The pounding of my heart is practically audible as I run my hands through his thick, dark hair then down across his broad shoulders and over his chest.

“Elora,” he starts but I move quickly, pressing my hand to his mouth. There is so much to say, so much we haven’t told each other. But even if this means nothing, even if it’s only this moment, I want it. Whatever it is. We can simply be two adults, getting lost in each other’s company. Tonight will not be for talking. Sliding my hand from his mouth, Sorin’s smirk and dimple greet me. Only, now, I allow myself to do more than just admire him.

This time, I lean forward and kiss his dimple before moving to his mouth. Kissing him deeper and harder than before. Whatever happens to our friendship after this will be tomorrow’s problem. Letting my instincts take over, my fingers fly to his shirt, unlacing the front before pulling it off him completely. His skin is toned and strong under my palms as I run my hands over his chest, down his arms. Tracing over the ink that resides there, relishing how his breaths change every time my skin touches his.

Sorin grabs my hands, bringing them to his mouth, kissing my fingertips. Taking his time, he mirrors my movements, tracing lines down my body. Across my chest, down the curve of my hips. Tracing the edge of my tunic, he runs his hands over the top of my thighs before gripping the back of them.

His mouth finds mine again, and I suck in a sharp breath as his hands, excruciatingly slow, find their way up my shirt. He traces my bare skin, my breasts, all while I continue to kiss him feverishly, focusing all my energy on his mouth. His neck. His shoulders. His hands stop below my navel, and I can sense the question form on his lips. I don’t give him the opportunity to speak before I press my hips forward and bury his mouth with my own.

He lets out a small laugh against my mouth but doesn’t stop his hands from running them over the tops of my thighs, moving slowly between my legs. Slumping forward so my head is resting on him, I graze my teeth against his shoulder earning a soft moan. The noise sends a thrill up my spine, so I do it again.

“Elora, you are—”

“You really do always speak, don’t you?” I laugh, pushing back to meet his eyes. His smile only intensifies the fluttering feeling in my stomach, and his hands move to my back, bracing me as he leans me backward onto the mattress. His body hovers over mine so I pull him closer, letting the warmth and weight of him encompass me.

“I can be quiet,” he whispers, pushing my legs apart before settling between them, leaving me gasping at the sudden friction, “but can you?”

I let out a laugh as my hands explore the muscles in his torso, dragging my nails slightly over his chest. He kisses me again, a clash of tongues, a jolt of heat. More, more, more. It’s the only thing I can conjure to think at this moment.

Then, without any warning, they start.

It’s quiet at first, a soft thrumming in the back of my mind. So soft it takes me a moment to make out the word. Then, like a clap of thunder, my ears are splitting as the voices in my head scream and scream.

Jerking myself sideways, I push Sorin off me in the process. The shouts in my ears so deafening I cover them both with my hands, slamming my eyes shut to stop the images I know will come. They always do.

Murderer.

Liar.

Murderer.

Sorin shakes my shoulders, making no attempt to be gentle. “Elora!” He succeeds, breaking through the invisible barrier, releasing me from the torment. At least, momentarily. My hands tremble as I pull them from my ears. I let them hang at my sides as my chest heaves and vision spins.

In.

Out.

I hate the way I flinch away as Sorin slides his hand toward me, but I hate even more the look of hurt in his eyes after I’ve done it.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is as weak as my apology.

Weak, weak, weak.

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