Page 115 of Nemesync
Elijah’s grip alternated between the handles, my leg, even my thigh. At a stop he turned toward me, giving me those fucking eyes, and said, “To answer your question, you’re lethal, Zanae. You’re the only human who could bring me to my knees.”
“Good to know, I like it when you’re on your knees in front of me.” I smiled.
He laughed, and I was so proud to be the reason behind this sound. “I guess I’ll have to kneel before you more often.”
My hands were attached to his waist, sometimes sliding down just to tease him, and he’d accelerate even more to punish me.
Arriving at his place, he just let me slide first, and then followed, taking his helmet off and greeting me with this face I became addicted to.
The elevator doors slid shut, enclosing us.
Green eyes bore into mine, and a mischievous grin played on my lips. “Is this your idea of flirting with me?”
His lips curled into a smirk, “I thought I’d change things up a bit. Keeps you intrigued enough.”
I stepped closer, the distance between us disappearing, “I’m always intrigued when it comes to you.”
Elijah
The doors opened; we stepped out quietly, my hand led her out, still on her lower back. She got out of here backwards. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed, and yet she didn’t do anything, she just wouldn’t break eye contact.
And God knows how much I loved her eyes.
Our faces were mere inches apart. I could feel the tension, I could touch it, taste it. Every moment seemed to stretch, a heartbeat away from something that could consume us entirely.
My fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face, my touch was desperate. “You infuriate me.”
“And you intrigue me,” she replied, her eyes locked on mine.
Our lips collided with a fervor born of both desire and frustration.
“I hate you so much for making me feel that desperate to feel your touch again,” she murmured against my lips.
“Tell me about it,” I responded, my voice a low growl I didn’t even know I could make, my lips sinking into hers even more with a smile.
If she only knew how badly I wanted to kiss her every damn time, to touch her. But if I did, it’ll put her in danger, and people will find out.
Being the Pakhan’s woman won’t be easy, even though I’d do anything to protect her and eliminate anyone who tries to harm her. No one knows that when we get back home, I make love to her and fuck her until she can’t even think straight, over and over again, craving the sound of her screaming my name.
No one knows that I stroke her hair while she reads a book, or that we take showers together while she talks about the latest movie she watched.
No one knew we’d spend hours on the balcony while she points out constellations, and I’m just there, mesmerized by her, kissing her until she’s gasping for air, and then kissing her again because I can’t fucking help myself.
No one knew I’d fuck her so roughly she’d be stumbling for hours. I’d taste every inch of her skin and dominate the body I adore and obsess over until she’d faint from soreness and pleasure.
I’m addicted to her, and I hate having to hide it.
Our kiss became this battleground, a war of emotions that spilled into every touch and every stolen breath between us.
Her soft lips brushed against mine, and she whispered, “For someone who wants to ruin me, you’re quite good at this.”
My fingers tangled in her hair, and I shot back, breathless, intoxicated by her taste, “Practice makes perfect,Milaya, I didn’t even start ruining you.”
I kissed her again this time more slowly, appreciating every inch of her mouth, her taste, the warmth, her beautiful face all flushed.
“I thought I told you to keep the helmet on tonight, Zanae?”
She took off her shirt, leaving her only with a bra.
