I even take a step back in closer to him, raising my chin defiantly. “In the last two months, I’ve found out I can see fae and daemons, that I’m part of a prophecy to save the world, lost the only family member I still had left, learned my twin is in the Underworld, watched a good friend die, and fought an incubus for my life, and… oh yeah… my business has burned to the ground. You call me a child, but I call myself a warrior for all I’ve been through. So, take the sanctimonious pile of bullshit coming out of our mouth and stuff it up your ass.”
Carrick blinks in surprise, and I notice the red in his pupils is gone. I start to move past him, intent on barricading myself in my room and moaning over the wounds to my heart.
But one more thought strikes me, so I stop and turn my head his way, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “And as for the seductress comment, frankly, your kiss wasn’t that good, so you don’t ever have to be worried I’ll go back there again.”
Knowing those are phenomenal last words and feeling like I’ve regained the power, I start to march past Carrick.
Only to have that fist once again wrapped up in my shirt as he hauls me back to him. Just as I’m standing face to face, I only have a moment to notice his eyes have gone the color of champagne before both his hands on are me.
Palms to my cheeks, cupping firmly, Carrick crashes his mouth down onto mine.
I gasp in surprise and then in pleasure as his tongue invades my mouth without invitation. This kiss is wholly different than what we shared in the gym, and it makes the one back in Faere look practically grandfatherly.
No, this kiss is all about passion and lust, and, within it, the desire for a meeting of not only the bodies but also the hearts.
My legs go weak from the intensity of what I’m feeling, but Carrick is quick and agile, and, without breaking his mouth from mine, his hands come under my ass, and he lifts me. My legs wrap tightly around his waist as he spins, moving us through the condo, but I have no clue in which direction.
I’m too consumed by the possessiveness of his kiss and how soft his hair feels against my fingers or how wildly my heart is slamming against my breastbone to notice much else.
All I know is that, at this moment, Carrick thinks me neither stupid nor a child, and while he may still be incredibly angry with me, he still wants me the way I want him.
Vaguely, I hear a loud bang, wood splintering, and I think to myself he must have just kicked my bedroom door open, but I don’t care. I can only feel demanding lips and hear a rumble of need that seems to be ready to erupt from him.
Or is that me?
I just know that it seems I’m falling down, down, down, and I think it must be my bed I land on, but what does it matter because, seconds later, Carrick comes down right on top of me.
Then his hands are everywhere, sliding under my shirt, dipping down to unsnap my jeans, all while his mouth works at me, continuing to brand me.
I’m disoriented, lost, and nearly hysterical when his mouth suddenly pulls away, causing my eyes to pop open. I almost cry out in dismay, but I’m rendered speechless by a demi-god I’m half in love with straddling my body and pulling his shirt over his head. It musses his hair when he pulls it free, making Carrick appear carefree and boyish.
Those eyes are luminous, but, for once, my attention isn’t captivated there. Instead, it moves down over his collarbones, his chest, and his stomach to golden skin and ripped abs with a trail of dark hair that leads down into his jeans.
He’s perfect.
A demi-god to the core.
Such utter fucking beauty that when his hands move to my t-shirt, I have an attack of shyness such as I’ve never felt before.
No, not just shyness.
Unworthiness.
“Wait,” I stammer, pushing his hands away.
Red fills his pupils, but he stills, tipping his head slightly and watching me with wariness.
“I just… I’m not sure…”
Carrick just stares. He hasn’t said a word since he kissed me, and now I think this is all a mistake. Why in the hell did I ever think someone as perfect as Carrick would ever be interested in me?
You’re stupid.
Selfish.
Idiotic.
A child.
Not a real woman.
A spoiled brat. Not attractive.
My body bucks against his, and my torso comes off the bed. Hands going to his chest, I ignore the warmth of his skin as I push him away.
Carrick takes my wrists, frowning, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, near hysteria in my voice. “You don’t want this. Me. You made that clear moments ago. I’m a child. Spoiled.”