Page 83 of Inked Desires
“Andrew…” he breathes, devastated.
I drop my gaze to my hands. I don’t want pity. Not from him. It’s humiliating enough that I married a monster—I can’t stand the idea of Arès seeing me as broken.
His fingers touch my cheek. He tilts my chin up gently, making me meet his eyes.
“Sorry for dumping that on you,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. His thumb strokes my cheek, leaving fire in its path.
“I want to know everything about you,” he says.“Back then, I begged you to talk to me. But you never said a word.”
“You didn’t trust me?” I ask.
He shrugs, but doesn’t move away. I don’t want him to.
“I don’t think you trustedanyone,” he says. It makes me smile, faintly.
If this memory is just a glimpse of what I lived through, I understand now. How can anyone trust again after that?
“Did you remember anything else?” he asks.
“No. Just… the snow. It pulled me under,” I explain.
He nods, eyes never leaving mine. There's warmth in his gaze now, but also something else. Something that burns. His lips catch my attention. They look soft. And I wonder… how many times did we kiss? I want to remember. I want to know what he tastes like.
“This isn’t a good idea,” he mutters beneath me, like he can read my mind.
I lean closer, so close I can almost taste him.
“We shouldn’t do this,” he says again, more to himself.
But my mind is already slipping. I’m on his lap. I feel safe. His presence intoxicates me, and this tension between us won’t let go.
His lips are gravity. I can’t stop myself.
I crash into him.
Heat. Raw and overwhelming. His lips aren’t as soft as I’d imagined—but they fry every nerve in my body. My fingers grip the back of his neck. He groans low, and I take the chance to slide my tongue across his lips.
He doesn’t pull away.
His tongue meets mine, eager. We move together, testing, exploring, syncing. It’s wet, gentle, and electric. More intense than I ever imagined.
I can’t name his taste. It’s unique—just like him. The flavor of freedom.
We should’ve done this sooner.
And now?
Now I don’t ever want to stop.
I press my lips harder against his, playing more fiercely with his tongue. I want more. One simple kiss will never be enough. A wave of heat spreads through me, flooding my veins until my crotch throbs with need.
I fold my legs, shifting my weight onto my knees, keeping my lips sealed to his. Concentrating, I swing one leg over his and straddle him.
A moan escapes me. He’s not immune either—I can clearly feel his growing hardness.
Just as I’m about to tilt his head back to savor his lips even more, he pushes me back slightly.
