Page 91 of Illusory

I knew that I was playing with fire being this close to Trace, unsupervised and so soon after he Turned, and I had every intention of diffusing the situation…just as soon as I finished nuzzling into his hand.

Which would surely beanysecond now.

God, how I’d missed being this close to him. The way my body hummed in appreciation whenever he was touching me. The way his skin felt like home when it was pressed against mine.

“Fuck, I missed this, too,” he said, his deep cadence rumbling over my body and coaxing my eyes back open so that I can once again worship him like the god he was. “I missedyou.”

The air crackled with energy around us as our gazes locked onto each other. My heart was thumping in my chest and my fingers were digging into his flesh, clutching onto him for something else. For something more. And then we were moving—flying, his hands sinking into my hair as he drove my mouth to his so quickly and fervently that I wouldn’t have had time to fight him off even if I had intended to. Which I hadn’t.

There was nothing soft about the kiss or the way his demanding lips moved against mine, kissing, and tasting and sucking like he needed to consume me. His hands fisted intomy hair, tugging deliciously at the roots as if to anchor me to his mouth, to bring us so close together that we could never separate again. Desire unfurled low in my belly and stretched all the way to my center, screaming out for more.

His mouth opened against mine, his plush, full lips forcing mine to part for him as he slid his tongue into my mouth and groaned, a deep gravelly noise at the back of his throat.

My own needy hands shot up feverishly, coasting over his chest and his shoulders, feeling all the grooves and edges of his body that made my own sizzle and pulse with desire and then I locked them together behind his neck, trapping him between my arms where I needed him to stay.

“Trace. Please,” I whimpered, barely able to get the word out. To tell him what I needed from him. What my body was starving for.

“Please what?” he asked against my lips, his voice deep and raw and strained.

“Please don’t fucking stop.”

Another rough growl thundered past his lips as his hands moved to my cheeks and then my jaw, his grip almost bruising as he tipped my head back and deepened the kiss. Sparks crackled over my skin as he invaded my mouth again, his tongue plunging deeper and rougher as it danced against mine like a man possessed. And then his hands were moving again, blazing trails of fire as they ran down my neck and over my breast and around my stomach and then my hips and ass, squeezing and kneading and claiming every inch of me before hoisting me up into his arms.

My back slammed against a wall as he pressed himself between my legs, his hardness rocking into my center as he palmed my ass, pulling me closer than I was sure I had ever been. I could feel every inch of him, feel his unbidden desire for me, and it only made my core pulse harder.

“Fuck, I need you, Jemma,” he said roughly, his body shuddering as he pushed and pulled my hips against himself. “I need to feel you around me.”

My body combusted as I tightened my hold on him and squeezed my thighs together, grinding against him, because lord knew I needed him too. Somewhere in the peripheral of my sanity, I knew this probably wasn’t the best idea for extremely valid reasons that I only vaguely remembered then, but I couldn’t seem to bring the thought to the forefront of my mind.

All I could think about was the throbbing, aching need overwhelming my body, the sweet desperation of his soft lips claiming mine, and his hardeverythingelse rocking against my body and begging for entry.

“I think I might be going crazy,” he said suddenly, pausing my movements as a tendril of fear whipped through my stomach. My eyes locked on his, searching frantically for that fraying string of unravelment.

But all I saw was fire dancing in his eyes.

“Your smell, the way you taste. How fucking soft your skin is. You’re the only thing I think about,” he went on hoarsely, like his voice had been scraping against searing coals all night. “I can’t close my eyes without seeing your face. I don’t dream unless it’s about you. Feeding from you. Fucking you.” His tongue slipped into my mouth again and I moaned as he spun us around and started walking us down the corridor that led to the bedrooms.

Hisbedroom.

“Sometimes I’m doing both at the same time,” he murmured near my ear, half kissing my neck, half licking me as my body crackled with heat. “I can’t think straight when you walk into a room anymore…but it’s worse when you’re not there,” he said and then twisted abruptly, crushing meback against another wall as he flattened himself between my thighs and rocked his hips again. “You’re in my head all the time, Jemma. All the fucking time, but it still never feels like it’s enough.”

I knew he was saying important things; things I needed to pay attention to, but I couldn’t get the haze out of my head for long enough to stop grinding my hips against his. I needed this to happen more than I needed air, and I was pretty damn sure that I was going to keel over and die if it didn’t get it.

“Tell me you want me like that too,” he said, his husky voice thrumming against my lips again. “Tell me you still love me, Jemma, that you still want me as much as I do.”

I was certain my heart was nearing cardiac arrest territory. “I want you, Trace. I fucking want you.”

As if I could ever stop wanting him. As if that were even remotely within the realm of my capabilities.

He shifted forward again, his hands sliding between us to grip my thighs and push them further apart, pinning me between his chest and the wall. His lips claimed mine again and then his hands were moving, over my stomach and up my shirt, touching, exploring, feeling, but it still wasn’t enough.

I needed his skin on my skin.

“Off. Take it off.”

The sound of ripping fabric barely registered as his mouth came down against the swell of my breast, his tongue gliding over my cleavage as his hooded eyes watched me pant and jerk with need in his arms.

“Tell me you still love me,” he murmured as he plucked my bra straps and dragged them down my arms. The cold air brushed against my exposed breasts for just a second before he covered them both with his hands and mouth.

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