Page 21 of Vow of Vengeance
"Youwouldthink that." She glares at me. "Do you even read?"
"I read the article you wrote." I shrug. "You have such a way with words."
That gets me a roll of her eyes, which feels like a beautiful gift after weeks of her stone-facing me in the office, ignoring my texts, dodging my questions. My patience has astonished me.
"Come on." I reach a hand out and push to standing, waiting for her to take it.
"I don't want to go anywhere. It's too bright out there."
"Lucky for you, we're not going out there yet." I laugh. "You need a shower. You smell like... coffee and despair."
"Iamcoffee and despair." She snaps back, letting her head fall back onto the couch again.
"You can take my hand and get up on your own, or I can drag you to the bathroom and bathe you myself."
"Declan," she groans, irritation thick in her voice. "Just leave me alone."
"Not a chance." I chuckle, throwing the rest of the blanket off of her to reveal that she's in sweats. I scoop her into my arms as she tries to push me away, not taking my ultimatum seriously. She's been marinating like this, as far as I can tell, since she left work Wednesday. Put plainly, she stinks. And yet, feeling her small body conform to mine, my cock tightens with desire.
I know where the bathroom is— I stood outside it the first night when I watched her pleasure herself in the bathtub. I started the shower for her when I brought her home from her doctor’s appointment. But she needs more than a shower— a change of clothes, to brush her teeth.
I take the stairs, ignoring her brooding all along the way.
Her room looks exactly the way it did when I was last in it. The mess that she's made of her living room seems contained to the downstairs, but after a minute, I realize it's just because she hasn't slept in here at all. I think she's just grabbed clothes as needed. It explains why her laundry basket is just a pile on the floor.
She stiffens as I take it all in, and tenses further when I move toward the bathroom.
"No!" She gasps, trying to push out of my grip as I flip the light switch.
By her reaction, I'm expecting to find someone chained to the plumbing under her sink, but the light flicks on only to illuminate a well-kept bathroom. I came in here to get stuff to bandage her feet before we went to Costa Rica, but I didn’t look around then. Now, I do.
It's a nice bathroom— possibly the most ornate room in the house. There's a large freestanding tub against one wall, with a chandelier set above it. Pillar candles surround the base of it, surely for romantic vibes. There's even a damn TV on the wall.
"Not here." Soren says, her voice quiet and low. I think it even shakes a little as she looks at the bathtub like she's seeing something different than what I'm seeing. "Declan, please."
She doesn't have to ask again. I flip the light off and shut the door tightly behind me, hoping to trap whatever bad memory or energy she felt. I grab a robe off the back of her door instead and take her back to the other bathroom. This one, no surprise, has been used. The same disorder from the living space extends to her downstairs bathroom, but at least I know she's bothered with brushing her teeth since we've been home.
I set her on her feet, and she grips the counter for support, whether because she's still rattled by something or because she's been neglecting to take care of herself. It only takes a second to turn the water on, and then I give it a minute for the stream toheat. I use the opportunity to grab her sweatshirt by the hem and lift, pulling it over her head. She raises her arms to assist me, but stares ruefully at me the whole time.
Her perky breasts nearly distract me from the mission when I free them from her top, but I don't let myself taste her no matter how my mouth waters with the need to run my tongue over her nipples. Instead, I barely brush against them as I peel my shirt over my head too, pressing against her so that I can plant my lips overtop her collarbone. It's still too sharp for my liking, but I think she may have filled out just a little since we first met. She's been eating. I can't imagine what, given that her kitchen seems to be exclusively a shrine to the coffee gods, but I don't care if she's eating coffee grounds or rabbit food... it's serving her well.
"I'm addicted to you, Soren." I tell her, trailing my kiss from her collarbone down. I skate around the globe of her breast, noticing the way her breath quickens as I go, running my fingers over opposite sides of her soft stomach and my lips down the center. I stop with my hands on her hips and look up at her, a goddess lit by the glow of the sunlight filtering through the window and the steam from the shower curling behind her.
"You're a drug I can never get enough of."
"Declan— "
It sounds like the beginning of a protest, but as I strip her pants down her legs, taking note that she's not wearing any panties, her protests die on her lips.
Her breaths turn heavy as I plant deliberate kisses along her mound, gripping her leg and spreading her wide for me. She gasps and quickly grabs ahold of me, gripping my hair so that she can use me for leverage as I devour her. I start with small lashes against her clit, breathing her in every time she exhales a shaky breath of building desire.
I'm slow, taking my time, making a meal of her. I savor her taste, her sighs, every little moan and gasp. Our previousexperiences have been like someone lit a stick of dynamite. This is gentle, teasing, vulnerable. This isn't lust or obsession; this is adoration.
She's already wet by the time my tongue dips low enough to trail her slit, and she collapses over me, unable to hold onto the pleasure.
"Declan!" She moans.
And all at once, I realize I had the wrong goal all along. I wanted her to scream my name, but hearing her moan it is another pleasure entirely. It sinks to my cock, which strains against my slacks, desperate for her warmth. But I don't want to stop pulling the sounds from her that she's making.
