Page 81 of Flameborne: Fury
I snarled at myself for discipline. She’d had a shock! She needed time to unwind and—
Bren took a deep breath, then released my jacket with one hand and lifted it, sliding up my chest to my shoulder, then the back of my neck, cupping her sweet, calloused fingers at the nape of my neck as she sighed again—this time with the weight of relief.
My body responded with a jolt of desire and ravenous hunger for her.
“Bren,” I started, my voice deep and ragged with both weariness and need. But she interrupted me.
“You make me feel safe. Donavyn. I never feel safe. But with you, I don’t panic. Ever.” Then she lifted her head from my chest and looked up at me, her forehead furrowed. She still had her hand on the back of my neck and her fingers curled to dig into my nape, sending tingles down my spine so that I swallowed. “How do you do that?”
I tried to smirk. Tried to pretend the words didn’t make my chest—and prick—swell with pride. Tried to swallow back the cocky joke that wanted to cross my lips, and instead reassure her.
“I told you, Bren. I love you. You’re mine. Meant for me. Made for me. Youaresafe with me. I swear it.”
She searched my gaze earnestly. I felt the bubbling rise in her through the bond, the way her body shivered to alert—not with fear as before, but with need.
I’d fallen into some kind of trance where the whole of my mind was centered on that bond, the cord between us, the pulse and glow of it, when she spoke and her words broke through.
“I want you, Donavyn,” she whispered. “Being close to you makes me feel better. It soothes my fear. The only thing that scares me is how much Ineedyou.”
The earnestness in her. The sincerity. The words landed right at the center of my chest and threatened to strip my control.
As I reached up to comb back the tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid with my fingers, I searched for the words. Therightwords. The responsible ones.
You need to rest.
We both have jobs to do.
You’re safe here—and I’ll make sure you stay that way.
But my chest screamed want and passion much louder than my self-discipline cautioned the need for restraint.
I swallowed hard, arguing with myself about how irresponsible it would be to do the things that entered my head—pulling that jacket from her, hooking fingers in the top button of the shirt underneath and jerking them all down to tear it open over her beautiful breasts, taking that plump mouth with mine and sliding hands into her leathers, stripping her naked and plunging into her, because I already knew the heated, soft thrill of how she’d take me and—
Her breath caught and she pulled me down. I resisted for a beat. But when our eyes locked and there was a flash ofurgencyin hers followed by a flare of self-doubt, I knew I couldn’t let her tell herself my resistance was lack of desire. I cursed and descended on her, grabbing her up, filling my hands with her, clawing at her clothes, tasting her mouth and throwing caution to the wind, because she breathed my name with relief, pressed into my touch, and reached for my jacket, clawing at it as urgently as I’d wanted to strip her of hers.
31. Need You
SOUNDTRACK:Tether Meby Galleux
~ DONAVYN ~
I’d been with women since before I was Chosen. I’d had satisfying, thrilling sex many times. But nothing equipped me for the full-body rush that shuddered through me the moment Bren opened my leathers and reached for me. When she freed me, stroked me, I felt it in prickling rushes over every inch of my skin. My fingers tightened in her hair, holding her into my kiss. My body shivered and my hips thrust forward, pressing into her grip of their own accord.
For several, panting breaths, I owned her mouth, unaware of anything but her hands on me, and our tongues dancing. I scrambled for her, that cord of light and need in my chest driving me forward, to have her, to take her, topossessher.
I fought it, desperate to shove out of its grip, unwilling to frighten her with the force of my need. But Bren didn’t fight at all—she pulled me closer, stroking, rippling against me, whimpering unhappily when she reached for my chest with the other hand and found the leather barrier of my jacket.
The seconds that followed were a disorienting cacophony ofoverwhelming thrill, desperate need, and the utter absence of rational thought.
There was, I knew, a reason not to give in to this. But I couldn’t conjure it. Ineededher with a fire that threatened to crisp my skin. And when she touched me and breathed my name, when the bond throbbed between us, I was a slave to it.
With clawed grips, we stripped each other of jackets and shirts. Buttons pinged, curses tore, the tiny, dim space filled with the echo of our twin breaths, and the rustle of discarded clothing being thrown aside. But then, when my chest was bare and her shirt was open, when I had one hand full of her breast and the other in her hair, when our bodies trembled and the sounds in her throat called me closer, I flattened a palm against her stomach and slid that hand down, under the waistband of her leathers, reaching for that deep, slick heat between her thighs. When I found her, she widened her stance and whispered“Yes!”
Too frantic even to open her leathers, I began to stroke, beckoning her to me in time with my panting breaths. And when I found that bundle of nerves, sliding and pressing, Bren shuddered, then sucked in and broke the kiss. Her head dropped back as her back arched—and that movement made her shirt fall open to bare her chest and belly to my eyes.
I moaned her name, drinking in the sight of her bowed backwards, pressing herself into my touch, her knuckles white where she gripped my elbow, her voice high and hushed as she begged me not to stop.
The sight of her, tears still drying on her cheeks, yet so abandoned in my arms was so erotic, I grew so hard it was painful.
