Page 91 of When Bones Whisper
“It’s the blood. You’re not thinking properly,” he said in a pained whisper, but his questing hands told a different story. His fingers trailed through her hair before sliding down her neck to her clavicle.
“Yet you are not pulling away,” she whispered, her heart skipping a beat when their lips brushed lightly with every word. “Let us pretend, just for tonight, that you do not wish to kill me and there is no ritual or blood bond.”
His forehead dipped to touch hers, his fingertips gently caressing her spine, a warmth spreading through her core as he suddenly tugged her closer. “Idon’twant to kill you.”
His pupils dilated when he looked at her, the shock of his penetrating, heated gaze making her gasp.
“Then why are you letting me take part in The Hunt?” When he didn’t answer, she pressed him. “Tell me.”
With hooded eyes and a thickly graveled tone, he said, “I just want a reason to chase you.”
The thought of him chasing her through the manor sent an unexpected warmth into her core. She cleared her throat, then licked her lips and rushed on before nerves could tangle her tongue.
“I would want you to catch me,” she said, her breath hot against his lips.
The silence was heavy, their lips flickering touches, when he finally grunted, “Fuck it,” on a sharp breath, and his mouth claimed hers.
Her body tensed for a second before she kissed him back, his passion igniting something hidden inside her. Time stilled, his tongue teasing against hers. Excitement bloomed over her skin, his touch eviscerating all her other senses.
He deepened the kiss, and when he pressed himself harder against her, her thighs fell open, a silent, desperate plea escaping her in a moan as her lungs begged for air, but she couldn't pull away.
She didn’t want to.
All she could think about was him consuming every inch of her, of how all she wanted was for them to stay like that, in the dark room where things between them were not contractual, or doomed.
A whimper left her lips when he rocked his erection against her, the large bulge taut under the thin fabric of his underwear. Heat drove through his length, and she imagined reaching down and taking the shaft in her hands.
Slowly, she dragged her fingers over the thick ropes of muscle contracting under her hand when she trailed over his lower abdomen, tracing the dipped V-shape, inching lower.
With a flexed jaw, he pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, panting. “Forgive me.”
Blinking twice, she leaned closer to his lips, but he turned his head, leaving a hollow ache in her chest.
“Nathaniel,” she whispered when he wouldn’t look at her. Soft fingertips grazed the sharp edge of his jawline as she tried to get him to turn back. “My doing this has nothing to do with yourblood,” she protested, knowing why he’d pulled back, the cold distance between them too much to bear.
With a sweep of his thumb over her swollen lip, he said, “When I take you, I want you fully lucid.”
Dragging her tongue over the warmth on her lips, she let out a long, shaky breath as she mulled over the wordwhen. With a roll of his hips, the head of his thick cock twitching against her thigh, he moved back, and her heart stammered.
He was aroused by her. She hadn’t imagined it or mistaken his kiss for the bond. His lips were pulled into their familiar, neutral hard line, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead, his jaw ticking when he looked at her lips. Nathaniel wanted more than just her blood.
God be damned, she wanted him too. Even if it was just for one night, tonight.
“Don’t go,” she said when he shifted his weight, her voice breathy but with a surety that surprised even her.
He clamped his eyes shut, then opened them again and wrapped his arm around her. “I’m not. Now turn around and sleep,” he commanded, brushing her hair back behind her ear with a softness she didn’t think those strong fingers could produce.
She rubbed her fingers over his arms, a gentleness she assumed he was not usually afforded from the way he jolted. Slowly, she entwined her fingers with his and closed her eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Six
In the throes of a dream, a heaviness lifted from Charlotte’s soul. When she awoke, she noticed the wound on her hip had dissolved, along with the constant ache that accompanied it.
A sigh of relief passed through her lips, her mind sharper than ever, but all she could focus on was Nathaniel’s muscular arms secured tightly around her, the tips of his fingers precariously close to caressing the underside of her breast, only meeting the skin on a deep inhale. The hardness of his erection pressed against the curve of her back. As he dove deeper, she froze, bringing her bottom lip between her thumb and finger. The sheer size pressing into her sent a warmth blossoming between her legs.
His hot breath ghosted her neck as he moaned in his sleep, his fingers tightening on her breast, thumb grazing her peaking nipple, pulling her tighter.
A knot formed in the back of her throat. Lying there, knowing the bloodlust he held for her, with her neck so close to his fangs, unconscious or not, sent goosebumps rising as a tingle crawling over her skin. A tingle heavy with carnal promise. There was just something so thrilling about being prey while an unconscious predator slept at her back.
