Page 142 of Nightbane
He hesitated. Then nodded.
The way he carried her to the bed ... it was as if she were made of glass. He laid her on her sheets like she was mist and might just slip away if he wasn’t careful. Isla’s eyes darted to the closed door.
“We’re hidden,” he said. And Isla had never been so grateful for his illusions.
He was over her now, completely clothed. No. She didn’t want anything between them.
She yanked his shirt up, and it didn’t move at all. But Grim reached back and tore it over his head in one smooth movement, making his shoulders flex, and Isla couldn’t see enough of his body, couldn’t touch enough.
“You are perfect,” she said, and she couldn’t believe the thought had reached her lips. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know someone could look like this. It’s unfair, really.”
Grim only laughed. “You’re doing very little to discourage mymagnificent ego.”
Her hands stroked down his hard chest. He radiated pure power, strength. She traced the scar just half an inch from his heart, and his eyes fell closed for a long moment. She could have sworn he shivered. The shadows in her room melted across the floor, puddling.
His gaze locked on her chest, prickled with need, aching like every part of her, and the silk of her dress did nothing to hide it. His hands went to the bodice, to rip it like before, and Isla made a sound of protest. “Demon,” she said. “I’m not going to have any dresses left if you keep destroying them.”
“I’ll buy you new ones. I’ll buy you a market. I’ll get you your own tailor.”
“Fine,” she said, and the dress didn’t stand a chance. It was ribbons in a second, and then his mouth was on her chest. He bit her, lightly, and she made a rasping noise, her back arching.
His hand trailed down her stomach, below her underthings, and when he touched her, he cursed. “Isla,” he said against her chest, “you are truly going to kill me.”
“I will,” she said, “if you don’t keep touching me.”
She was burning, aching, desperate for more.
“Please,” she said. “I want everything.”
Grim took the rest of his clothes off, and Isla went still. She had felt him before, but now ...
He climbed over her again, his hips settling between her legs, and her breath hiked. He pressed his lips against her shoulder, her chest, her neck, her cheek. “I think you’ll find we fit perfectly,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
Then he looked at her and asked one final time. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, and he reached down between them.
For a while, there were just their shared breaths, his forehead pressed against hers. He was leaning on his arms, holding himself over her, shaking slightly as he exercised every ounce of control.
At first, there were flashes of pain. She winced, and Grim always stopped. Always waited for her to tell him to go farther.
He went farther. And farther.Farther.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she breathed through it as her body got used to him. He was gentle, so gentle, fisting the sheets in his hands, cursing words into the place between her neck and shoulder.
Suddenly, it all seemed to go so much easier. Suddenly ... Isla’s head was falling back as she groaned, and Grim was making a sound like a growl. His arm curled below her spine, and he hauled her fully against his chest. Her legs locked behind him.
Isla saw stars, gasped his name, said all sorts of ridiculous things, and then she was whimpering, because she had never felt this good, this close to the stars—
She pressed her cheek against the sheets, and he kissed up the length of her neck, until he gently turned her head, fingers curled around the back of her neck, until their eyes locked. He seemed fixated on her every expression, the way she drew breath when he reached down to raise her hips higher, the way she bit her lip to keep from making more noise.
He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth and kissed her.
She cried out against his lips as she shattered, and Grim kept going, and going, until he joined her over the edge.
For minutes, he just held her, tightly, as if someone might take her from him. Then, he rose to look at her face, emotions battling across his own. Unexpected ones. She wanted to tip his mind over and play with the contents.
“Hearteater.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You are both curse ...” he whispered against her skin, lips traveling down her neck, to the center of her chest, “... and cure.”
