Page 21 of Twisted Ties
I pace into the bathroom and splash ice cold water over my face, scrub my hand down my cheeks and stare at myreflection in the mirror. Like the sealing of the fated-mate bond, it’s done now. It can’t be undone.
Her gaze flicks to me when I reenter the room and I can’t help but notice the way her angry eyes flitter down my form and she bites her lip.
It’s too much and I’m weak for her.
I stroll over to the sofa and when I reach her, I take her hand in mine and pull her to her feet.
“What are you doing?” she says.
“Taking you to bed,” I tell her, pulling her along behind me.
“Maybe I’m not ready for bed.” Her voice is pissy.
“We’re not going there to sleep.”
“Oh.”
“But if you don’t want to … if that was a one-time-only thing …”
“I want to,” she says quickly, sounding breathless and making me hard.
The blinds are drawn in the bedroom, the light dim, the room bare. I don’t spend a lot of time in this house, I’ve never had cause to decorate it, to fill it with stuff, but having her in my room is like letting sunshine flood the place.
I find the hem of my shirt and slowly lift it over her head. Then I let my gaze swim over her naked body. It was all too rushed, too frantic before. I never got to soak her in like this. To admire the fullness of her breasts, the way her nipples stiffen towards me, begging to be sucked. The line of dark, soft curls between her legs. The curve of her waist and her hips. The swell of her ass.
But then there are the marks. The bruises. The grazes. The scars. Some new, some recent. Some much older.
I trail my fingertips over them, making her body tremble and my bond hum.
“How did these happen?”
“Let me see,” she says, frowning. “This one here, that was you. Your magic. In the clearing.”
Her displeased expression reflects onto my own brow.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I don’t know how many times I can say it.
“It’s okay,” she mumbles. “Besides, I bet I made my mark on you too.”
I scoff. “Any you did, I healed.”
“But I did mark you?”
“You’ve done more than mark me,” I growl, tugging her up against my body.
“I have?”
“You’ve captivated me.”
She scoffs again.
I take her chin in my hand and lift her face to mine. “You’re beautiful.” That doesn’t seem to satisfy her. “Brave. Smart.” She goes to argue with me but I get there first. “And you don’t know when to shut up.”
I kiss her and though all that anger still swirls through her, I can feel desire too, growing stronger and stronger the deeper, the more firmly, I kiss her.
“You’re wearing clothes,” she grumbles when we break away to catch our breath. “Which seems unfair.”
“So do something about it,” I tell her.
