Scorch (Virtues & Lies 2)

He might belong in history, but that one compassionate, human action…it makes him mine. Body, heart, and soul.

Pushing myself up, when he turns all the lamps on with one switch, I meet him at the chest of drawers where he’s picking out fresh clothes.

Taking his hand, I turn him to face me. “I need something from you.”

A soft smirk tips his face with a quirk of his brow.

“No, not sex…not at this time.”

The sulky confused look on his face grows serious when my gaze lowers to his chest.

Closing his hand around my rings, he steps closer. “You want them back?”

“Yes.”

“Earn them.”

Closing the space between us, I rake my fingers up his chest. From his boxers up the light trail of hair to his belly button. I trace soft velvety skin covering steel muscle. Dips and grooves.

My legs get weaker as his heat steeps with mine. Water fills my mouth with his delicious leathery scent filling my lungs.

As his hands drop to my arse, pressing me to him, a wanton sigh rushes from my lips. He’s hard in every possible way, and my body softens to mould perfectly to his. My wet pussy aches with need. It takes absolutely everything in me to ignore it.

Rolling onto my tiptoes, I stretch to take his lips. They’re rough, chapped from the constant worrying of his teeth. But they’re the best thing I’ve ever kissed. Plump and sharply sculpted like a cubist painting or sculpture.

His deep, guttural groan as I pull it into my mouth makes me shudder. My bod

y threatens to give as his hands work my arse cheeks, holding me flush to him as he flexes his hips into me.

How does he always do this to me?

The heat of his erection pulses between us. A beacon to my lust and desire.

Like they need one.

Christopher undoes me without trying. He’s my kryptonite. The one thing that trumps my sense and sensibilities.

Cupping his face, I lick into his mouth, kissing him deeper and harder until I’m sure he’s going to push me up against the wall and fuck me so hard I won’t be able to finish what I started.

Focus, Arabella.

With every lick and swirl of my tongue, I drink him in. Everything around us fades into nothingness as I trace my hand down his neck to his chest. I close it tight around the rings. They’re weighty and warm, and before he catches on to me, I yank on the worn, thinned rope. It gives on the first hard tug, and with the jolt of it, his teeth bite down on my lip, breaking skin.

The hot metallic tang invades my mouth and our kiss. I fully expect him to pull away, but he kisses me harder. The bruising grip of his hands makes my insides pulse with a magnitude of need that might kill me even as my heart gallops, thundering in my chest like a thousand hooves pounding the earth. My lungs kindle like a house of dry logs set on fire.

The ground beneath my feet disappears, and before I can gather my bearings, my back flattens on a cold, hard surface. Without a second thought, I wrap my legs around Christopher’s hips. His dick, bulging steel, presses to my bare pussy and…

Holy fucking shit!

It’s my undoing. My body is wracking with want for possession. My cunt clenches in desperation for his cock.

But my hand…my hand is so heavy, the skin blistering with the urgency to replace its missing piece.

“I don’t need to earn them,” I say, my voice far too breathy to convey the impact I was going for as I thread the rings back on my finger. My eyes never leaving his, I lay my hand flat on his chest. The hammering of his heart pounds into my flesh. “They’re mine.”

Just as surely as he is mine and I am his. Beyond every possible world. Beyond time and space.

He’s my husband. My king. My god.