Her steps are nearly silent as she moves closer to the door. Heat burns and builds in my gut as I wait, listening for her to slip on her coat and boots. I will continue to hunt her. Every time she runs, I will track her down. But if she really wants out of here, there are things that must be done first, and I can’t do those things when I’m forced to keep saving her life.
I startle at the feeling of a warm weight against my thighs. My eyes shoot open, and I move to sit up, only to go still when I see her seated across my hips.
“Don’t talk,” she says firmly. “I have something I need to say.”
Not sure if she’s going to talk or put a knife to my throat, I prop up on my elbows and prepare to toss her away if needed. I nod once.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Her dark hair is wavy around her face, her cheeks flush from the heat of the woodstove, and her lower lip is bruised and swollen from my bite. That shit should not make me feel as satisfied as it does. I’m a sick fuck.
My gaze drops to the spot where the apex of her thighs meets my dick, and I swell beneath my jeans.
“I realized something while I was up there, surrounded by your woodsy scent and thinking over our last few weeks.”
“Get to the point,” I growl. “I’m not known for my self-control.”
Her tongue quickly presses against her swollen lip, and I wonder if she’s aware she even did it. “You like me.”
“That so?”
“Yes, that is so.” She braces her hand on my pec and leans forward to bring her face a little closer. The friction of the move against my body has me sucking in a breath. “Despite your annoyance to my talking and my questions, you still fed me, nursed me back to health, taught me to make lures, and endured hours of war.”
My pulse quickens.
“And, although you tried to hide it when I washed your hair,” she whispers, “I saw what my touch did to you.”
My face heats.
“You could deny it. You could say you’re just being a decent human being and that what I saw was just a lonely man’s response to the touch of a woman.” Her expression grows serious. “But you came and found me tonight. You brought me home.”
Home.
Fuck.
“You could’ve let me go and washed your hands of me for good.” Her eyebrows slant together. “Why didn’t you?”
I study the mark on her lip, wondering if she’s ready for the truth. My truth.
She leans down, presses her chest against mine, and her hair creates a veil around us. “I think you like me.”
“You're wrong.” Because I am incapable of the kind of feelings she speaks of.
She blinks, pulls away enough to look deep into my eyes, and I see the flicker of rejection in hers. “You said you never lie.”
“I don’t.”
She sits back fully, her round ass seated in the center of my hips. “Then what was that in the forest? Why come after me? Why did you…” She brushes her fingertips along her lower lip.
I push up to sitting, and she falls into the space between my thighs with a thump. I tilt my head, sift my hand through her hair, and grip it at her nape. “You push every single button I have without giving a single shit about the consequence.”
“Consequence?”
“I am not a good man.” I bring her lips to mine, breathe in her panted breath, and feel a surge of power at the desire I see burning in her eyes. “Whether you believe it or not doesn’t make it less true.”
She attempts to put her lips to mine, but I use the hold I have at her nape to hold her off. Rather than whimper or beg, she wiggles closer, locks her legs around my waist, and squeezes.
I groan at the feeling of her wanting me, needing me, pulling me closer. Despite the parts of me that she’s seen—the anger, irrational possession, lack of empathy—she still wants me.
“I won’t warn you again.”
“Good, because it’s getting annoying.” She goes for my lips again, and this time, I let her come far enough for her to brush mine before I pull her back. “Kiss me,” she whispers.
I tighten my grip and tug to expose her throat. I run my lips along her skin while breathing her in. Her scent shoots straight between my legs. I palm her backside and draw her tighter against me, and her soft moan rolls against my lips.
“I want you,” she says on a sigh.
My eyelids fall shut at the sound of desperation in her voice. The knowledge that she wants me sends all the blood in my body south.
“Are you sure?” I lick up her throat to her lips and await her response.
Molten steel eyes under heavy lids stare back at me before she leans in and presses her lips to mine. The feeling like a mild electrical shock surges through my blood, and when her tongue slides against mine, I nearly gasp at the contact. Soft, slick, and warm, she kisses me with a tenderness I’ve never before felt in a kiss.
I thought I’d experienced all types of kisses—hungry, timid, even angry—but this is slow, deliberate, and devastating.
She tilts her head and holds me captive while she licks and nips at my lips. Her hand slips over my shoulder, and her nails drag against my scalp. Goosebumps prick my skin as she sifts her fingers into my hair.
She breaks the kiss, and I chase down her lips, not ready to give them up. I swallow her surprised chuckle. She pushes on my chest. “Hold on,” she whispers. “Help me with my shirt.”
I grip the hem and pull it up enough for her to slip her arm out, and then her head, before carefully pulling it off her arm on her bad side. The fire lights her bare torso, and I lean back for a better view.
With her thighs straddling mine, her palm against my pounding heart, I take in her naked form. With her wide hips, thin waist, perky breasts, and all that dark hair, she reminds me of the painting “Venus Rising” by Jean-Léon Gérôme. A goddess on the offering table.
I pull off my own shirt and toss it aside. Her eyes flare as she takes in my chest, and the tip of her tongue runs against the broken skin I put on her lip.
Is she reminding herself of my brutality?
I gather her against me and roll us over so that she’s on her back and my hips are cradled between her thighs. Keeping my weight to the side to avoid hurting her still-healing ribs, I sink into the sweet abyss of her mouth.
My blood hums with adrenaline, a desperate need to take what I want, fast and hard, to slake this unquenchable desire. I kiss down her jawline to her throat, nip at the sensitive skin of her collarbone, and run my tongue down to her nipple. She arches her back and then gasps in pain as the movement spears her ribs.
I pull back and look down at her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Her eyes are dry. “Try not to move so much.”
“I’m trying.” Her lazy smile is so sexy that the front of my pants grows tighter. “It’s hard not to when your mouth is on me.”
“Try harder.” I lower my lips to her other nipple, lick at the tightly beaded tip, and then blow on it. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Again. I cringe at the memory of her lip between my teeth and the taste of her blood, and my dick hardens, causing a wave of shame to wash over me.
She guides me by the nape back to her breast. “Don’t stop.”
I hide a secret smile against her skin and take my time worshipping her with my mouth. Her gentle breathing turns erratic, and the tiny sounds that fall from her lips fill my ears and fuel my desire for more.