Page 90 of Shackled to the World
“I’m here. I’m alive.” Annora slowly lowered one hand to touch his face. He closed his eyes on a rough exhale and shuddered, then bowed his head, leaning heavily into her.
She turned to face him fully, leaning against him, and he wrapped his arms around her hips.
He wasn’t sure if she lowered herself or if he pulled her down to straddle him, he only knew her naked body was the only thing grounding him in reality. He clutched her close, knowing he was leaving bruises on her, but he couldn’t stop himself.
She’d been so close to slipping away from him.
He must have spoken aloud, because she said, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
When she scraped her fingernails along his scalp, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck until he felt surrounded by her. After a minute, the tightness in his chest loosened enough for him to breathe properly again, her touch giving him life.
He cleared his throat, his voice gruff when he spoke. “I should leave you alone to shower.”
He leaned back, respectfully dropping his gaze to the floor—only Annora didn’t untangle herself and leave. If anything, she leaned closer and tightened her hold.
“What if I don’t want to be alone anymore?” Her whisper fluttered along his skin, his cock throbbing painfully at the husky sound of her voice. “What if I want you to stay?”
His head snapped up, and his beast gave a fierce cry of triumph. It was all he could do not to growl and stake his claim. His searched her face for the truth, struggling to crush the impulse to take her hard and fast.
His frayed control screamed at him not to be a fucking idiot by turning her away, and he gritted his teeth against the urge to take her up on her offer, determined not to fuck this up. “Battle has a way of charging one's emotions. People make rash decisions they later regret. In the morning, you—”
“I’ve died more times than I can count, and never once have I run out to fuck the nearest man.” Annora gave him a crooked smile, her eyes dancing with humor, then darkening suddenly as she scanned his face. “But I never had to watch people I care about fight and almost die for me. Never had anyone risk their life to keep me safe.”
She cupped his face, leaning in close until her breath caressed his lips. “I’ve never felt such terror as I did when I knew I could’ve lost you without letting you know how much I love you.”
Something inside him snapped at her simple, straightforward confession, and he launched himself forward. Annora squealed as she flew backwards, but he caught her close, inches from the ground and crushed her to his chest, her scream cut off as he covered her lips with his. Eager for the taste of her, he thrust his tongue in her mouth…then nearly came in his pants when she sucked on it lightly. He could practically feel each pull directly on his cock.
He slowly pulled away from temptation.
Not like this.
Not on the floor like the heathen he’d been accused of being so often when he was younger.
Feeling like he was tearing off his own skin, he pulled away and stood, although seeing her sprawled naked on the floor nearly made him drop back to his knees.
Instead, he reached down and offered her his hand, pulling her to her feet. At her questioning look, he kissed the tip of her nose and pushed her toward the shower. “I won’t take you while your blood still stains your skin. I won’t take advantage of you.”
* * *
Annora gave him a soft smile. He wasn’t the type of man to give her flowers or poetry. His gruff comment was his version of romance. She mattered to him, enough that he was trying to look out for her.
If she was just another one of his girls, he would’ve fucked her without a second thought.
Instead he wanted it to be special for her.
Wanted to treat her like she mattered.
When he tried to back away and give her space, she quickly grabbed his shirt. “But what if I want to take advantage of you? You have blood on you, too. We could share…the shower.”
The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts. It wasn’t because she was having doubts, it was because he was part of her soul. Touching him made her feel whole and loved. Like all the loss and pain had been worth it.
His teal eyes darkened with lust and he stepped into the shower with her fully clothed.
Hot water pelted them, soaking his clothes and painting the shower stall red with their blood.
She slipped her hands between his back and his soaking wet shirt, running her palms up the powerful muscles, checking for any injuries…but the instant she touched his skin, she was distracted. A hum of pleasure caught in her throat when he pushed her against the cool tile and kissed her like he couldn’t get enough.
He didn’t let up, didn’t let her catch her breath. His hand was pressed against the wall near her head, while the other rested at her waist, his fingers tracing lightly against her skin, the complete opposite of his demanding mouth.
