Page 138 of A Tongue so Sweet and Deadly

His lips brushed hers. “Let’s be bad together.”

When his warm mouth sought hers again, she had no fight left.

Pushing the self-loathing deep down, she let Loche kiss her until the only thing she could think about was his hard body pressing against hers, his strong hands exploring her neck, and his skilled tongue playing with hers.

Chapter

Fifty-Seven

Loche’s lips didn’t leave hers when he lifted her off the table, shifting her so she straddled his lap as he took her place. His hands found her hair again, and he wrapped the golden strands in one of his fists, tilting her head backward.

When his mouth left hers, a muffled complaint left her throat, and Loche’s low laugh fanned over the sensitive skin of her neck as he trailed his lips down. Shivers racked her body as his hot breaths ignited every nerve, and she wrapped her legs around his back, her arms locking around his neck, forcing their bodies closer.

Her chest rose and fell with his, and Loche growled again as he unfastened her cloak.

A sharp exhale left her as it fell to the floor, and he hooked a finger inside her tunic, pulling it off her shoulder to let his mouth explore more of her skin.

But when he went to pull it farther down, fear stabbed at her like a knife, breaking through the clouded heat scorching her mind.

Lessia shifted, gripping his hand.

Stilling, he pulled back, eyes searching hers.

The desire swimming in his steely ones made her cheeks flush, and Loche grinned—that boyish, playful grin that lit up his entire face—as he released her hair and lifted his hand to trace the crimson blooming across her face.

“I love it when you blush like this.”

His husky rasp was full of promises, and without thinking, she leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I love it when you smile like this,” she whispered as she straightened.

Their eyes locked, and Lessia couldn’t breathe as emotions raced across his face.

“Come away with me.”

Her eyes widened, and for a second, she thought about nodding.

Letting go of all her responsibilities.

Being utterly selfish and taking him somewhere they could never be found.

But then her gaze snagged on the arm wrapped around his neck.

As she began shaking her head, Loche’s hand cupped her face and gently stopped the movement, his thumbs brushing over her lips.

“We have a few days between the final hardship and the election, and trust me, it won’t be pleasant. Let’s go away—just you and me. Forget all of this for a while.”

A chasm of ice opened in her chest at the hope in his eyes, and she averted her own, fixing them on his heaving chest.

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Why not?” His voice was soft.

Curious.

As if he truly didn’t understand.

Swallowing, she forced her eyes to meet his. “Merrick is injured. I need to take care of him. And I have duties here. My friends…”

---