Page 91 of The Garnet Daughter
The adrenaline must be doing something crazy to my insides because having him this close, being able to smell his scent and feel his solid form against me awakens a part of me I thought I had more control over.
He takes a long time to answer me, perhaps just listening to the surroundings, but then he nods, avoiding my gaze, and for a moment I think he might be . . . stalling.
Knowing that turns my insides warm, my muscles languid. My shallow breaths of fear move from my stomach to deep, lung-filling ones in my chest.
“Are you . . . Are you certain?” I’m stalling now too.
When he finally looks at me, his normally bright green eyes are so dark and hooded, the intensity shoots all the way down to my core. The air changes between us, morphing with our mingling breaths and sending us down a path I can no longer pretend isn’t there.
Without much consideration other than touching him more, I remove the forearm covering my breasts and place my palm over his heartbeat. It punches upward against his chest, lurching forward the more I touch him.
“Should I let you get dressed?” His hand is on my arm now, his thumb caressing back and forth.
His eyes flick around my face, searching for any indication of what I am thinking, but I couldn’t tell him even if he asked.
I don’t want to think. I want to shut off the part of my brain that knows this is a bad idea and will convince me to push him away. Because right now, there is a primal part of me taking over, and that part knows exactly what I want from him regardless of complication.
I slide my hand upward to his shoulder, and in response, he steps closer, brushing against my nipples and setting the sensitive skin on fire. I suck in a breath that doesn’t go unnoticed. Heat floods between my thighs, and my cheeks feel flush at that sudden sensation.
He inhales deeply and tilts his head down, breathing against my neck, testing my boundaries carefully.
“I did kiss you back, on the ridge,” I admit breathlessly.
“How could I ever forget?” He huffs a quick laugh against my skin, and I hate that I know exactly the grin that goes along with it.
My hands move across his form. Not even another predator walking into the oasis would keep me from squirming up againsthis solid body, his skin bare and hot against me. My body wants his, and the more I teeter that line, the more it rejoices.
“I would like to kiss you again under circumstances where we don’t think we are about to die,” he teases, his lips moving against the skin just below my ear as he speaks.
I move closer to him, attempting to hide the stupid, giddy smile I can’t shake. “But we are currently in a circumstance just like that.”
“No, I never truly believed we would die this time.” His large hand travels up to the back of my neck so smoothly, I gasp.
“Perfectly safe.” I lean into his breath on my skin. “That’s why you pounced on me before I could even dress.”
He groans in response, sending a shock wave all the way down to my core. I have to grip him tightly to keep my knees from buckling. And then he’s angling my head to look at him, his darkened eyes piercing through me and pinning me in place. His whole body trembles like he is holding back, forcing himself to stay in control.
“Tell me to stop, Callia. Tell me not to kiss you again.” And after a shuttering breath, he adds, “Tell me it was a mistake the first time you kissed me.”
I’m practically panting as he stares down at me, waiting for me to decide whether we cross this line. I could easily tell him to stop, and I know without a doubt he would back off instantly, and not only that, but he would understand. I love that about him, how patient he has been since he made his feelings known.
But I don’t want to push him away. I can’t keep lying to myself, stuffing down what I feel about him.
Because, First Mother save me, I don’t think I can ever see him as just a friend again.
My entire body ignites when I admit that truth even inside my own mind, and the tension between us irrevocably shiftsfurther. I slide my hand to his strong jaw, now peppered with the dark shadow of a beard growing in.
He leans into my palm like it’s an oasis all on its own, closing his lids and gulping on heaving breaths.
“I can’t,” I whisper.
His eyes shoot open briefly, stricken with pain, but he nods in understanding.
“No, August, I can’t say those things. I can’t tell you to stop or that kissing you was a mistake.”
My words are cut off as he collides with me, a flashy grin the last thing I see as he presses into my lips, hard and desperate. He kisses me deeply, his tongue beckoning me to open for him, and when it slides against mine, I almost come undone, whimpering and pulling him further into me.
His calloused fingertips dig into my hip, the other holding me at the nape of the neck, perfectly trapped for his devouring. But I can’t help but squirm against his body, chasing the friction of his hard skin against my nipples, lost somewhere between savoring the head-spinning kiss and wanting so much more.
