Page 28 of Reptile Dysfunction
His response is to flip us with barely a wince as he presses me back against the couch cushions with a controlled power that makes every nerve ending sing. More snakes join the party, some nuzzling at my neck while others trace patterns along my arms and shoulders. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not nearly enough all at once.
“I want to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin,” he murmurs against my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive spotjust below my ear. “I want to hear every sound you make when I touch you.”
My back arches involuntarily as his mouth trails lower, following the line of my collarbone. His hands slide under my shirt, callused fingers mapping the curve of my waist, and I can feel his restraint in the careful way he touches me, like he’s trying to contain a storm.
“Don’t hold back,” I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness. “I want all of you.”
Something in his control snaps. His mouth crashes back to mine with renewed hunger while his snakes become more adventurous. One flicks its tongue against my ear, pulling a gasp from me that’s half surprise, half desire. The dual sensations of his lips devouring mine and serpentine touches everywhere else makeme dizzy with want.
When his hand slides up to cup my breast through my bra, I actually see stars. His thumb finds my nipple through the lace, circling with just enough pressure to make me arch into his touch. The snakes hiss their approval, and several more join the exploration.
“More,” I breathe against his mouth, not caring how desperate I sound.
His eyes flash amber as he pulls back just enough to look at me. “Tell me what you want,” he commands, and there’s something compelling in his voice that makes honestyspill from my lips.
“Your hands on me. Your mouth.Everything.” The words tumble out, pulled from me by desire and something deeper—trust, maybe, or the simple need to be known completely. “I want to feel what it’s like to be claimed by you.”
When his grip on my nipple tightens, I gasp into his mouth, and he swallows the sound with another devouring kiss.
His other hand slides down to grip my thigh, pulling my leg up around his hip so I can feel every hard inch of him pressed against my core. Even through our clothes, the contact is electric, and I rock against him instinctively, chasingfriction.
“Fuck, Sloane,” he groans, his control visibly fraying. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
His snakes seem to sense his mounting desire, their movements becoming more urgent, more possessive. Sterling nuzzles at the spot where my pulse pounds beneath my skin, while others wind around my wrists like living shackles, holding me captive to sensation.
Just as his hand works at the buttons of my shirt, just as I’m certain we’re about to cross a line we can’t uncross—
His back spasms, making him curse against my mouth.
“Fucking Reformer,” he snarls, the pain cutting through desire like a blade. Some of his snakes immediately shift into pain mode, curling into tight coils while others maintain contact with me, as if reluctant to break the spell entirely.
I can see the frustration warring with pain in his expression, the way his jaw clenches as he fights against his body’s limitations.
“Poor baby.” But I’m already standing to check the soup. “Food first, then I’m going to take very good care of you,” I promise, letting my fingers trail down his chest as I move away. The touch makes his entire body shudder, and I file that reaction away for later.
The promise in my voice makes his eyes flash amber again, and every single snake turns to track my movement toward the kitchen. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns.
“Maybe I want to get burned,” I toss back over my shoulder, enjoying the sudden intake of breath that follows.
A buzz on the intercom makes us both freeze.
“Sloane?” Bradley’s voice crackles through the speaker. “I went to the Y to pick you up. They said I’d find you here. We have dinner reservations at Marcello’s, remember?”
Shit. The conciliatory dinner date I’d agreed to, hoping to buy some goodwill from my dad for my ‘unauthorized’ blog posts. Standing frozen by the stove, I close my eyes briefly, inhaling Thad’s scent that somehow combines chlorine and masculine spice that makes me want to forget all about obligation and responsibility.
The mood has already shattered like glass, and I can see Thad’s walls slamming back into place even as his snakes droop with disappointment.
“I have to go,” I say quietly, hating how the words taste like betrayal. “I’ll come back later,” I whisper, already missing his warmth. “After dinner. We can finish this.”
“Don’t.” His voice is gruff, carefully neutral. “Don’tmake promises you can’t keep. I’ve had enough of those.”
The words land like a slap—cutting and unfair. Before I can argue, Bradley’s knocking grows more insistent.
“Go,” Thad says quietly, his snakes coiling in on themselves. “Before your father’s golden boy gets the wrong idea.”
But as I gather my purse and jacket, I can’t help thinking maybe the wrong idea is exactly what Bradley needs. What this whole town needs.
Chapter Twelve
