Home > Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3)(74)

Grace and Glory (The Harbinger #3)(74)
Author: Jennifer L. Armentrout

   “We should see who it is.” Zayne turned his head, and I groaned as I pressed my forehead to his cheek. He fished my phone out of the cupholder.

   I kissed the underside of his jaw. “Who is it?”

   “Well, the text says, ‘Answer the phone, you trifling Trueborn.’” He paused. “Am I going to need to kill someone for sending a text like that to you?”

   I pulled back. “No. That has to be Cayman. Gimmie.” I wiggled my fingers, squinting at the brightness on my phone as he handed it over. I went to hit the option to call the demon back as I looked at Zayne. “And if it weren’t Cayman, would you really kill someone for calling me a trifling Trueborn?”

   His head cocked to the side. “Honest?”

   I nodded.

   “Probably.”

   “Um.” Pressing my lips together, I popped out my cheeks. “That may be an excessive reaction.”

   “I know.” His hand returned to my hip and was on the move.

   “And I am sensing that you don’t care.”

   “Correct.”

   I shook my head as I hit the number. “We’re going to need to talk about that later.”

   As close as we were, I saw his smile and my eyes narrowed. I put the phone on speaker.

   It rang twice, and Cayman answered. “I cannot believe you didn’t pick up—”

   “Careful. Zayne wanted to kill you because you called me a trifling Trueborn.”

   “Zayne sounds like he has anger management issues,” Cayman responded. “But we don’t have time for that. Roth and Layla are coming back, and they need you guys to meet them.”

   My gaze shot to Zayne’s as Cayman continued. “Well, they think they’re just meeting with you, Trinity. I didn’t exactly have a chance to tell them about you, angel boy. Cell reception in Hell is terrible.”

   I was honestly just stuck on the fact that Hell had cell phone reception at all when the corner of the bathroom in the apartment didn’t.

   “Where are we meeting them?” Zayne asked, showing off his multitasking skills as he slid his hand down my outer thigh.

   “Head to their place, but instead of stopping there, keep going down the road. You’ll come to a stop. That’s where they’ll meet you. Call me when you get there.”

   “And where are you going to be?” I asked.

   “You know, doing things,” he replied. “And stuff.”

   I frowned at the phone.

   “Call me,” he repeated, and then the phone went dead.

   “I wonder if he even found out if Lucifer really has people looking for me,” I said, wiggling out of Zayne’s lap and into the passenger seat.

   I might’ve pulled a butt muscle doing that.

   “I wonder if Roth and Layla were successful in getting Lucifer to come topside.”

   “I guess we’ll find out.” I then realized the sunglasses were on the back seat. Groaning, I half climbed between the seats and grabbed them.

   “You ready over there?” Zayne asked as the engine rumbled.

   “Yeah.” I put the glasses on. “How far are we from their place? I don’t remember.”

   “About thirty minutes once we cross the bridge,” he said, one hand resting on my knee while he used the other to steer. “More than enough time.”

   “More than enough time for what?”

   He squeezed my knee gently. “You’ll see.”

   My gaze lowered to where his hand rested. I liked that, how he liked physical contact between us. He was like that before.

   Killing someone for calling me trifling was new.

   At least, I thought it was as I placed my hand over his, and looked out the window. When we pulled out of the garage, I realized it was near dusk.

   Staring at the blurred shapes of people and storefronts while Zayne’s thumb moved in slow circles, I tried not to get too worried about whether or not Roth and Layla were successful. I didn’t even know if I should be worried or grateful if they were.

   Thoughts of Lucifer slipped from my mind as I focused on Zayne—on his hand and his fingers. It had moved farther up my leg, and even though his fingers were just moving in slow circles along my inner thigh, every part of my being became hyperaware. I flushed hot as my chest rose with a deep breath, and I looked down. My hand still rested lightly on his. He wasn’t doing anything. Not really. I needed to get my hormones under control—

   I bit down on the inside of my lip as his fingers slowly crept upward, reaching the very center of me. My gaze shot to him as my mouth dried, my body sizzled.

   He spared a quick glance in my direction, a faint curve to his lips. “More than enough time,” he repeated.

   “For what?” My breath caught as his fingers continued to move in those slow, tight circles.

   “To show you how happy I was.” He focused on the road. “You want to find out?”

   “Oh,” I whispered, my heart beating so fast I thought I was going to have a heart attack. “I do.”

   I should’ve said no. I had no idea if any of the cars we passed could see inside, but I didn’t as my gaze bounced from the windshield to the passenger window as we crossed the bridge and Zayne...

   He drove me mad.

   That was how it felt with each circle and the featherlight touches and the harder ones. The leggings and the undies underneath really weren’t much of a barrier, but then his hand was slipping out from underneath mine and working its way under the band of the leggings. He stopped there, waiting for...for permission, and as I stared rather blindly out the window, I curled my hand around his forearm, urging him to continue.

   And he did.

   I don’t know what it was. If it was the touch of his fingers against my bare skin or if it was what we were doing and how delightfully wicked it felt. If it was how he was so into it or if it was all of those things, but I closed my eyes and just existed, there in the moment, with him and what he was doing with those strokes of his finger, teasing and shallow, and then relentless and deep. My head fell back and my eyes closed as my hips moved, chasing his hand. I felt out of control, pressing my thighs against his wrist as I dug my fingers into the skin of his forearm. My entire body arched as he delved deep.

   “Zayne,” I whispered, barely recognizing my voice as every part of me tensed, coiling tighter and tighter. From the muscles in my fingers, all the way down to my toes, it was like the moments before making a dangerous jump, when my feet left the ground and there was that weightless moment where the heart skipped—the very second when I felt like I was flying. I cried out, lost as my body spun and spun before liquefying. I couldn’t catch my breath as release powered through me, throbbing and pulsing. My entire body trembled as I held on to his hand, feeling the tendons moving under my fingers. The echo of soft sounds coming from me heated my cheeks as the darts of sensation slowed.

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