Touch (Touched by the Fae 3)

I share with him the truth of all that I am because I want to prove to him that he’s not the type of male that I’ll ever be afraid of.

Back in the asylum, the night he finally admitted what I’d been willfully blind to all along—that he was, in fact, a Dark Fae—I acted like I was shocked. Deep down, though, I think I’ve always known. I just… I never thought of him as a danger to me. He wasn’t one of them. He was my Shadow Man.

And I’ll do anything to make his mine, even show him a part of me that I’ve rarely shared with anyone else.

He knows, too. He knows how important this is to me.

Slowly, gently, Nine takes my hand in his.

He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against it. My hands are clammy, the smell of leather and sweat, and they’re the ugliest fucking things I’ve ever seen. And Nine kisses them, while murmuring, “You shouldn’t hide them, Riley. They’re beautiful.”

His easy words hit me like an arrow to the heart. Because Nine is fae—and he can’t lie.

That seals the deal for me. I was already on board with the final touch. Now? As long as my mate is down, there’s no going back.

“Nine?”

“Mm?”

“Yes.”

He freezes. For a second, he reminds me of the statue who risked everything to shield me from the Fae Queen, but then he lets out a small, involuntary shake, his silver eyes beginning to glow as he lets go of my hand.

“Riley… what are you saying?”

Isn’t it obvious?

You just say yes. That’s what he told me.

Well, here I am. Offering myself up to him on a silver platter, willing to give him everything he desires—while taking everything I’ve ever wanted.

My bare hands find their way to the middle of his slender body. I lift them slowly, rising them up his chest, feeling every heartbeat as his breath quickens.

“Touch me, Nine.” Whoa. Is that throaty, husky voice mine? Okay, then. “Claim me.”

His hands snap to my waist, fingers curling into the flesh peeking out above my hips.

Throwing my head back, I moan. His touch feels so good.

He dips his head, skimming his jaw along my exposed collarbone, the heat of his breath causing goosebumps to erupt all down my arms. I shiver. He tugs my lower body close, angling me up to press his pelvis against me.

There’s a hitch in his usually controlled voice as he tells me, “I’ve been waiting close to a century… my whole Cursed life, Riley… to be this close to my mate.”

I giggle. Actually giggle. “Only a hundred? Compared to Gillespie, you’re almost a baby.”

He pulls back, tilting his head as confusion blooms on his heavy-lidded face. “What?”

I drop it. Bringing up my old doctor again will totally kill the mood and I’m anxious to keep this going.

“Forget it.” And, to give him a little encouragement, I swivel my lower half, coming into direct contact with the noticeable bulge of his erection.

He swallows his own gasp of pleasure. Like a magnet, his head is drawn back to the curve between my shoulder and my neck. He nuzzles my throat, small lightning-like shocks coursing through me with every point of contact.

Neither one of us is holding back.

Shadows fill the room. Through the slits in my eyes as I pull Nine closer, I see them. More than that, I sense them. I don’t know if they're responding to me, or if it’s Nine’s Unseelie nature that draws them to us, like the long, shadowy duster he always wears. They surround us, offering us privacy, offering us safety, the wisps forming at our feet almost binding us together.

They want us to do this. I’m right there with them.