Page 83 of Touch

That’s because she didn’t expect this. She would need more words to explain, but his embrace has swept them all away.

Andrew lifts his gaze to hers and hisses, “We need to get you inside.”

That would require releasing him. “You said you could hold me all fucking day and night.”

“And I meant it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yes, he is. But not yet.

Andrew waits for Love to move, yielding to whatever she allows. Cautiously, she experiments by running her palms over his coat, then sneaking her fingers past the material. Beneath the knit sweater, his abdomen hitches as her digits wander, exploring the ridges in fascination. Fearful of waking up, of realizing this is nothing more than an erotic dream, Love etches his frame. She scales his muscles—pecs, nipples—her touches growing bolder once she locates his pounding heartbeat.

Stars eternal. She had thought using objects to stimulate one another had been extraordinary, but this is a new level of discovery.

Solid. Steady.

Andrew’s outtakes accelerate. When his gaze sinks to her mouth, those pupils blacken over the pewter irises.

Motivated, Love pulls on his coat, pulls him to her, their chests knocking together. She senses his willingness and pushes past the fear, moving with sudden certainty. Uttering a coarse noise, Andrew clenches his eyes shut, groaning as she grazes his lips with her thumb, tracing the contours of him.

He likes this.

His cock lifts against his pants, the stem high and pushing through the material. Her touch is thickening him. The knowledge whets her appetite, boosting Love with adrenaline, rekindling her immortal side. When deities crave, they indulge.

Another foreign urge surfaces, a passionate sort of need. Love’s teeth ache, and her mouth tingles. She wants to tear her canines into this man, to mark him.

Nonetheless, this is too momentous, too important to charge ahead. Love staunches her primal impulses, seeking something gentler first. Something true.

When her nose touches his, she is lost. Until her arrow enters his heart, she owns him. He may not love her, but he worships her.

His toughened erection emboldens Love, as do his swift exhalations and the amorous glaze in his eyes. She senses Andrew withholding, restraining himself from snatching her.

No matter that she cannot feel his heat. She experiences it in other ways, sees the devoted fervor searing across his face.

Destiny forgive Love, but she yearns to do this for eternity, make him stumped or speechless, guarded or relaxed, joyful or frustrated, to see his face in different facets. Moreover, she wants him to unravel her in the same manner, to unspool every hidden emotion.

Eager to stoke those flames, Love brushes her lips against his. And damnation, the contact is electrifying, igniting her tothe soles of her feet. Andrew hisses against her mouth, and a whimper slips across her tongue.

The nexus of her body throbs, the slit of her folds emitting wetness. All of this hurts so good, she longs to rub her clit over his cock, to brand her flesh to his. But first, she must have that snarky, insolent mouth.

Over and over, Love glides her lips against him, teasing Andrew’s flesh while his hands knife into her hair. The gesture triggers every nerve in her scalp, the effect invigorating, producing a maelstrom in her blood.

Finally, a haggard noise curls from Andrew’s throat. “I’ve thought about you this way so many fucking times. I’ve fantasized about kissing that stubborn mouth of yours, tearing your moans apart with my lips until you’re dripping for me.”

“Iamdripping for you,” she confirms, her pussy melting, growing as wet as her tongue. “Let’s celebrate this gift. Let’s take care of each other.”

“Christ, Love.”

“Beg me to kiss you, mortal.”

“Kiss the fuck out of me, goddess—”

She seizes his lips before he can finish. Parting them with her own, Love swallows his growl with a famished pull of her mouth. At once, her universe explodes with lightness and darkness.

Seething, Andrew catches her kiss and flings himself into it, trapping her mouth in kind, sealing her to him and throwing her existence into chaos. Their mouths fit and rock together. The forbidden taste of him—illicit, sinful—wracks her with shivers.

Her arms fling around his shoulders and cling to the nape of his neck as their lips slant. Their movements sync as though this has been destined from the beginning, as though they’ve been created for one another.

Groaning, Andrew hauls Love’s mouth to his and spreads her open. She parts under the force of his kiss, her lips quivering, her body liquifying. With precision, his tongue flexes into her, plying Love with deft flicks, striking in and out.

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