Page 87 of Through the Flames
What had I just missed? Some kind of social cue?
She rolled over, her back to me, and as I followed her under the covers, I watched her for a long time. Turning off the light, I settled in behind her, my hand splaying over her hip, brushing her skin in the dark.
My grip tight, I pulled her back flush against me, something possessive and dangerous curling in my chest. A hunger clawing inside, more desperate than ever.
My Blaze thought this was still a game, but she didn’t understand. She was already mine. Every breath she took, every little touch, was binding me tighter.
In the darkness, my fingers twitched against her skin, dominating, desperate, and feral.
There was no going back. No finish line. No safe word.
Twenty Three
Ella
The cotton of his shirt felt soft against my bare skin.
It was stretched thin from wear and smelled faintly of cedar and mint, with a trace of something indefinable clinging to it like a whispered secret.
Slats of golden sunlight sliced through the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets and the floor.
The room hummed softly with the steady, mechanical breath of the air conditioner and the faint buzz of the fans of his server and computer.
The sheets were twisted around my legs like tendrils, heavy and tangled, reminding me of the night before.
There was a faint rustle of fabric, and I let my gaze sweep across the room sluggishly. Hunter was standing by the dresser, pulling on black joggers, the muscles in his broad back rippling.
The silence in the room was suffocating me. I’d always had a mad urge to fill it, and it took everything in me to keep my mouth shut and not blurt out the first thought going through my head.
There was a faint ache in my throat, a lingering reminder of what we’d done last night, and heat rushed to my cheeks as I spotted the dark marks he’d left on my hips.
I fucking loved when being claimed like this; I couldn’t even deny it. But then I remembered the sting of rejection. The one thing hehadn’tdone.
Hunter touched me like he owned me, like I washis. But he hadn’t even kissed me. Did that mean I was nothing? Just a body?
Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I pretended to scroll through social media but watched him in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.
“You know, you could at least say good morning before disappearing like Batman,” I teased in a light, carefree voice.
“Morning.”
Ah, Robot Boy was back. Dry and flat as ever.
Resting the back of my hand against my forehead, I threw my head back dramatically. “Wow. Be still, my heart.”
His steely gray eyes cut my way. “You’re not really the quiet type, are you?”
I froze for a moment. The curious way he tilted his head clearly implied he wasn’t trying to be mean.
This was just Hunter being his oblivious, blunt self. He probably hadn’t meant it to land like it did, but it still hit me where it hurt.
A muted ringtone cut through the silence, and his brows furrowed as he glanced at the caller ID I couldn’t see from the bed.
“…correctional facility… do you accept the call…” was all I caught from the other end of the line.
Hunter muttered something about the gym, grabbed his keys — the clink of which was sharp in the otherwise still room — and left.
Without a kiss. Go figure.
