Page 25 of Decked By The Grumpy Golem
She swallows and I follow the movement of her throat. My entire body radiates with need, with the memory of what it felt to have her. To hold her.
“Then why? Why wouldn’t you even explain yourself to me?” There’s hurt in her tone, but also strength. So much strength. “You stopped caring, just like that. Like flipping off a switch.”
I shut my eyes against her words. I want to be strong and keep her at arm’s length. I want to tell her the words that will make her hate me for good. But I can’t do it.
Or maybe, just like Ernesto said, I need to stop being a coward.
"I never stopped caring, Lulu," I say, my voice rough with emotion. "You're everything to me, Lucia. You always have been. From our first kiss, I always knew there was no other woman for me."
The words hit her and she exhales forcefully. I can see it in the way her eyes widen, the way her lips part in surprise. All these years, she thought she meant nothing to me. That she was just some teenage mistake I wanted to forget.
Exactly the way I had wanted it. Exactly the opposite of the truth.
“Do you mean you haven’t been with anyone else all this time?” She blinks like she’s trying to focus and can’t quite manage it.
“Golems mate for life.” I nod slowly. “One heart. One mate. One life. It’s who we are.”
“Wow.” Her eyes become unfocused for an instant and she looks down at her lap. She seems to be thinking to herself, but her gaze is clear and lucid when she looks back at me. “And does it bother you that humans are different? That I had lovers other than you?”
My throat closes, and it hurts as I try to swallow. I knew this. I always knew this.
“No.” The answer is as simple as the truth. “I figured you would, since I never told you the truth.”
The words seem to satisfy her and she smiles a sheepish, almost shy smile.
“I never stopped thinking about you, either.”
Her words ripped what little sanity I have left and suddenly, I’m paralyzed, frozen in place. Unable to even think.
She locks her gaze with mine, and all I can do is watch as she reaches over and grabs my glass, setting it carefully on the side table, her gaze never leaving mine. The crystal makes a soft clink against the wood, unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.
"I'm going to kiss you now," she tells me, her voice steady despite the way I can see her pulse hammering at the base of her throat. "You can tell me to stop if you want to."
I try to speak, my lips parting, but no words come out. My mouth feels dry, and I swallow hard as I intensely search her face. Every rational thought I may still have been capable of scatters like leaves in a windstorm.
She smiles then, slow and wicked and probably a little dangerous.
"I'll take that as a yes."
She makes slow, deliberate motions, swinging one leg over my lap to straddle me on the sofa. Her body presses against my hardness, and I feel my breath catch sharply, my hands hovering just above her hips like I'm afraid to touch her. She bends forward until her face is inches from mine, her breath mingling with my own, filling the space between us with an electric kind of tension. Her hair falls on each side of her face like a silk curtain, sealing us off from the outside world, creating our own private universe.
Then she kisses me, and the world as I knew it ceases to exist.
Chapter Eleven
Lucia
Thekissstartssoft,tentative, like I'm asking a question I'm not sure I want answered. But when Gideon's lips move against mine, warm, familiar, perfect, every rational thought I've been clinging to dissolves like sugar in rain.
I can feel the solid mass of him beneath me as I straddle his lap on the leather sofa, my thighs bracketing his hips. His arousal presses hard and insistent against my core through our clothes, the impressive length of him making me gasp into his mouth. Heat radiates from his body like a furnace, burning through the fabric betweenus until I'm dizzy with want and the intoxicating warmth that emanates from his very skin.
His hands finally settle on my hips, fingers spanning my waist with a heat that burns through the wool of my sweater. I can feel the tremor in his touch, the careful restraint he's fighting to maintain, and it makes something wild and reckless unfurl in my chest.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he opens for me with a low groan that vibrates through his chest and into mine. He tastes like whiskey and winter nights and that subtle mineral taste that I've never forgotten, no matter how hard I tried.
My hands find the solid wall of his chest, fingers splaying over the worn cotton of his flannel shirt. Beneath the fabric, his heart pounds against my palm, steady and hard and real.
"Lucia," he breathes against my mouth, my name a prayer and a plea all at once.
