Page 107 of The Unweaver

“You are neither of those things.” He trailed soft kisses down her cheeks, along her jaw, his lips feathering the corner of her mouth. “You are reborn.”

When she met his heated gaze, her muscles tautened with a different kind of tension. A different kind of ache. His gaze dropped to her lips. Leaning in, he paused a breath away. She wanted to be consumed by anything except the sorrow echoing inside her. Her fingers skated down his back, pressing him nearer.

He dipped his head at the last moment. “You’re upset,” he rasped against her throat. “I shouldn’t kiss you.”

Her hands tunneled through his dark hair, drawing his face up. Their gazes tangled.

“Make me forget,” she said, and claimed his mouth in a possessive kiss.

Their tongues and hands feasted, fraught without longing and desperate with hunger. Her body grew pliant under the dance of his fingers down her back and around her hips. Cupping herarse, he lifted her until she straddled him, pressing her against the door, molding their bodies together.

She moaned into his mouth and tore off his shirt in a pinging hailstorm of buttons. Raking her nails along his scarred muscles, she ground against his tantalizing hardness, seeking reprieve from the delicious tension coiling inside her.

His mouth painted beauty on her skin as he kissed down her throat. He captured her dress strap with his teeth and dragged it down, exposing her breasts to the laving of his tongue and the soft bites of his teeth on their hardening peaks.

She arched into his touch, writhing against him, desperate for more friction in the slow ministrations of his mouth and hands.

A rhythmic thumping filled her ears, drowning out the ballad of their labored breathing and aching flesh. “God, is that my heartbeat?” she panted.

“It’s mine.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth.

Gasping, her palms flattened on the bunching muscles of his bare chest. She couldn’t feel his heart beating, but she heard it pulsing in the room, calling out to her. Malachy captured her lips, slanting his mouth and deepening the kiss. She forgot about everything except the feel of his body.

Her hand glided down the sculpted planes of his abdomen and grasped his rigid cock through his trousers. He groaned low, hardening more under her touch.

Impatient, she unbuttoned his trousers, and they both sucked in a breath when her fingers gripped the base of his thick length. Relishing his groan, she stroked him from root to tip, silken steel her fingers couldn’t close around. Her thumb over the weeping head, smearing his desire.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. He pulled her closer until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began. Those clever fingers slid between them, trailing up her dress and alongher slick folds to stroke her swollen clit. He swallowed her moan, ripping away her reservations with each agonizing caress.

She met him, stroke for stroke. Tension coiled in her core, tighter and tighter. Their bodies found a tantric rhythm, a delicious friction, winding the anticipation higher.

Pulling back, he studied the nuances of her pleasure. A long finger slid into her wet heat, teasing her, filling her, driving her faster towards the edge.

She wanted—needed—more. Breathless, she guided his hard cock to her entrance. His gaze captured hers. His pupils were blown wide, his blue eyes wild with a question she answered with the slightest shift of her hips. The tip of his cock found her core.

Neither moved in a moment of stark stillness. More than one threshold had been crossed, if only just. But she didn’t want hesitation. She wantedfriction. The coiling tension inside her was ready to snap. She was on the verge of splintering into a thousand euphoric pieces.

“Cora—”

“Malachy.” Her legs tightened around him, urging him nearer. They groaned as his cock slid along her slick folds, the flared head teasing her clit.

“Sweet Jesus,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m dreaming.”

His words pierced the heavy haze of desire. Brow furrowing, she tilted her head back. “I’mdreaming.” She caught his puzzled look before the door opened at her back and she tumbled into darkness.

Cor-a,find me the needle within the egg.Cor-a…

Chapter 30. The Voyeur

“Cora.”

She jolted upright and her heartbeat kicked into a pounding rhythm. At the foot of her bed stood a man, his eyes glittering like coals in the night. Gaze riveted on her, he took a slow step forward into a shaft of light spilling from the stained-glass window. Moonlit prisms gilded his bare-chested body, corded with muscles.

“Malachy?”

Another slow step and he returned to the shadows. “Have any unusual dreams lately?”

Was she still in one of them? After fleeing the Emerald Club last night, she had stripped out of the ruined suit, cleaned off Durbec’s gore, and collapsed on top of the bed. Bane had told her not to wait up for him, but she had anyway, tossing and turning while her mind frothed. Sleep had been slow to overtake her, and when the dreams began, there had been no rest.

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