Page 105 of A Taste of Torment
I don’t know how long it continues, his lips and tongue exploring mine. Tasting and memorizing. I’m lost in this moment. In him.
But eventually, he pulls back, gasping in breaths.
He presses his forehead to mine. “Candice.”
I lick my lips, pulling in air to my starved lungs. “Do we really have to stay?” I whisper.
A low vibration begins in his chest, soft. Like a purr. Is hepurring?
The absolute absurdity of that thought, mixed with my much too heightened emotions, causes a hysterical laugh to bubble up. I can’t stop it.
“What’s funny?” he asks.
I continue laughing, now just at the fact that I’m laughing.
“Candice?” he asks, near a warning, but there’s also concern there. That’s the thought that sobers my hysteria.
“You,” I pant. “You were purring.”
“Purring?” he asks, sounding offended.
“That’s what it sounded like. I’m sorry for laughing. I’m just freaking out.”
His fingers drift over my collar bone, up my neck, and to my chin. “I could show you where that sound comes from, but it would require me to change forms.”
I gasp. “Yep, not ready for that.” My conversation with Bea and flashes of the memory from my childhood charge into the front of my mind and sober me quickly.
Jarron tosses a glance over his shoulder, and that’s when I notice everyone watching. Even the dancers have halted their rhythm to watch us accosting each other in a public place. Embarrassment sucks the air from my lungs.Whoops.
Chattering resumes, and the dancers restart their movement.
“After the conversation with my father and this performance, I suspect we won’t get away with an early retreat.” His lips curl into an amused smile.
“Right,” I mutter. “So, now we’ve got to endure?”
He squeezes my hand gently. “Just for a little while. It’ll be a sweet form of torture.”
His chest still rises and falls in heavily, his eyes alight with equal parts curiosity and desire. His jaw clenches as he examines me head to toe. “This is going to be hard.”
He pulls away from me, fingers clinging tightly to mine.
I find amusement in his discomfort, and I use it as a distraction against my own. We approach a round table, a floating flame as a center piece. Laithe and Stassi eye us as we take our seats.
“That was so hot,” Stassi says seriously.
I bark out a laugh.
“Looks like you need to release a bit of energy,” Laithe says, a smirk on his face.
“Want a tussle?” Stassi asks. “Lord knows I could use one. Wouldn’t mind—”
“No,” Jarron says. “But a bit of air would be good. Are you okay, if I…” he asks me.
“Oh,” I say quickly. “You’re going to leave?”
“Just for a minute. Only if that’s okay.”
I nod. “Sure.” I guess. If he needs some space.
