Page 111 of Sweetling
Molly didn’t imagine how his chest expanded with surprise, and she felt his hungry gaze rake over her from head to stockinged toe.
“Come in,” she murmured.
Allarion stalked into the room like the predator she sometimes saw lurking in his eyes. His stark features gave him a ranginess, shadows catching in the hollows of his cheeks and temples. He crossed to her in just a few steps, coming to tower above her, but he kept his hands folded at his back.
Licking her lips, Molly said, “House, we’d like to be alone tonight. No snooping.”
The shutters rattled in good humor before falling silent.
One of his brows arched, but otherwise he held perfectly still.
“Everything looks all right? All the wards and borders and trees and—and whatnot?” Honestly, another quake could shake them all night and Molly didn’t think she’d care, so long as she got her hands on her handsome fae.
“Everything is in order. The estate is perfectly safe.”
“Good.”
Heart racing, Molly couldn’t seem to catch her breath, not with him looking down at her like that—like every promise he’d evermade was about to come true. Fates, if Molly had told herself when she first arrived here that she’d be aching to take Allarion to bed…well, she might’ve believed it. For all their differences and the way they’d ended up here, she’d always been drawn to him.
Maybe there was something to what he’d said about his goddesses finding perfect matches.
His throat bobbed and his lips parted, but it was a moment before words came, as if he wished not to utter them.
“When I asked to come to you…I wish to hold you as you sleep. I don’t presume more.”
“Well, I do.” Molly closed that last step between them, running her hands up and down his front, feeling the soft glide of his fine tunic spread over the solid muscle of his chest. “I don’t wear something like this for sleeping.”
Both brows arched this time. His arms slid around her, hands unerringly finding their way to rest on the swells of her backside. “Oh? And what do you wear it for?”
Pulling on his tunic, he dutifully lowered his head so she could rise on her toes and deliver a nipping kiss.
“It’s for being fucked senseless by my fae lover,” she whispered against his lips.
A bestial sound ripped from his lips, vibrating his chest under Molly’s hands. She gasped in delight when his arms went tight as vices, crushing her to him. His mouth greedily took hers, lips pressing searing promises into hers.
Molly clutched at his tunic, her world spinning. Her moans of pleasure echoed in his mouth as his hands kneaded her backside, tucking her pelvis firmly to his. She felt the rigid, burning bar of his cock caught between them, and her cunt clenched with an answering throb to feel how he pulsed beneath his trou.
Digging into his tunic, Molly battled the buttons, desperate to feel his skin under her hands. His kisses kept distracting her, at once a bruising punishment for making them both wait so long then nipping and teasing to soothe. When she gasped for a breath, he trailed his lips across her cheek to her jaw and down her neck.
He lingered at her throat, and Molly felt the unmistakable scrape of his fangs along her skin. Her pulse jumped there, and he shuddered in her arms.
She whimpered when he straightened out of her reach, his face gone pained.
“If we make love, I fear…” A great heaving breath rounded his shoulders, and Molly didn’t like seeing him try to make himself smaller, as if he felt he needed to seem less.
“What?” she whispered. “Tell me, my love. I promise, it’s all right.”
His nostrils flared as he searched her gaze. Molly held still, hoping to convey whatever he needed to find there. She was more than a little desperate for him, for the passion of a moment before, but she could reassure him. Whatever troubled him now had been vexing him for a long while. Best to get it out of the way so they could focus on the better things.
“I don’t want to scare you,” he murmured.
Molly bit her cheek to keep in the giggle. “My darling, I’ve seen you being eaten by roots. I promise you won’t scare me.” Surprise, most likely. Maybe even a little alarming. But scared? No, not anymore.
“They weren’teatingme, merely—”
She touched her finger to his lips. “Tell me.”
Gathering her close again, he kissed her fingertip. “Since bringing you to Scarborough, I have wanted…to bite you.”
