Page 94 of At the Mercy of Midnight
She was breathtakingly gorgeous in her openness.
Her eyes met his with a spark. “You’ll have to do better.”
His grin turned wicked, and she shuddered under the look.
He gripped her waist beneath her shirt, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. With his other hand, he grazed slowly across her bottom lip. He took that lip between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently until her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering.
He replaced his fingers with his mouth, pressing a soft, lingering kiss around that lip until she moaned, the sound vibrating against him.
He pulled away slowly, lips still touching a fraction as he murmured against her, “what about that?”
Her hands gripped him, one on his shoulder while the other curled around the nape of his neck. “More,” she whispered against his mouth.
Heart pounding, he went in softly again, this time a hot press around her top lip before pulling back again. “Mm…do I take that to mean I’m garnering a response?”
Eyes closed again, Amelia’s chin tilted up, lips parting, seeking him.
“Winslow?” he breathed.
A crease formed between her brows, a hint of frustration entering her features. “Yes,” she said, keeping her eyes shut. “Yes, Finley. Now, kiss me…please.”
That one word did it. It shattered every ounce of control he had left within his body.
He kissed her.
Not soft this time, but hard, urgent. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer. She moaned into him, her body pliant and welcoming, as he deepened the kiss and took what she offered.
Nudging a thigh between her legs, his hand moved to grip at her hip, dragging her over him.
She gasped against his mouth before coming back in with another fervent kiss, her own hand snaking under the back of his shirt, fingers pressing in urgently against his hot skin.
Then she was moving herself against him, shifting her hips, seeking friction against his thigh.
Fuck.
His hands shook where he touched her, intense heat trapped between their bodies.
A sharp, cracking noise broke through the haze, and he reared back in surprise. Above them, a shower of sparks shot outwards, the arcane lamp bursting with a bright light before blacking out.
Their heads both tilted up to look at the darkened sconce, chests pulsing with panting breaths.
He looked back to her slowly, and their eyes met once more. Silas studied her expression, hoping not to see regret there.
“Well,” Amelia said, still breathless. A small smile tugged at her lips, and his heart soared. “I think you made your point.”
His grin could not be helped. “I do love drawing conclusions to my hypotheses. This test was, irrefutably, my favourite to participate in.”
Her laugh was soft, open. “Perhaps we should repeat your findings, confirm the validity.”
His eyes searched across her face wonderingly. “I do love your fastidious approach to science.”
Her smile slowly faded, and he saw the moment sliding away from them. She swallowed before shifting out from beneath him, taking a few strides away. He watched her go, staying near the column. “Shall we get some fresh air?”
Silas pulled in a deep breath before nodding. “Of course.”
They pulled on their coats, and he led her from the room. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he wondered at the sudden change. Though when she made a joke as they stepped into the elevator, Silas got the sense that Amelia had merely required some time to process everything.
There was no regret, no frustration over a decision yet to be made that he could sense from her.
