Chapter 18 #2
I went willingly, and the kiss was nothing like yesterday’s careful beginning.
Malek knew now that I liked him hungry, and the moment his mouth covered mine, the restraint he usually wore so comfortably began slipping.
His hand tightened behind my neck while the other pulled me flush against him, bare chest pressing against the shirt he had given me.
The first deep vibration of his purr rolled through him before I had even finished curling my fingers into his hair.
I opened for him, and Malek’s kiss deepened immediately, his mouth more demanding without becoming careless.
Cedar filled every breath while my own scent sweetened around us, and the sound of water dripping from the canopy disappeared beneath the rough vibration in his chest. His mouth eventually left mine and moved along my jaw.
“Malek.” I breathed his name as his nose traced the side of my neck, the warm drag of his breath making my fingers tighten in his hair.
His answer was a low purr against my skin before his mouth settled over my gland.
A sound escaped me as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin beneath my jaw, heat spreading through me quickly enough that my knees weakened.
Slick gathered between my thighs, familiar and immediate.
What wasn’t familiar was Malek paying such close attention to every shift of my body as though memorizing exactly what made me react.
He inhaled deeply, and a growl vibrated against my throat.
“Again.” I tipped my head farther aside for Malek, my fingers tightening at the back of his skull so there was no mistaking what I wanted.
He listened.
Malek lingered at my neck before his hands slid beneath the borrowed shirt and found bare skin.
The first rough pass of his palms over my waist made me arch closer, and his purr deepened in response.
He traced higher, his thumbs brushing beneath my breasts slowly enough to make impatience crawl through me.
When he finally cupped me, the heat of his hands against my skin dragged another sound from me, and Malek’s growl answered it almost immediately.
I liked knowing what affected him. He seemed to like hearing exactly what affected me.
“You like me in your shirt.” I murmured against Malek’s mouth when he kissed me again, deliberately dragging my fingertips down his chest when his scent sharpened.
“Yes.” Malek admitted, his fingers tightening at my hip while his gaze dropped briefly toward the charcoal fabric trapped between our bodies.
“How much?” I asked Malek as I traced lower over his stomach, asking almost entirely because I wanted to see what his control looked like when I pushed at it.
“Evie.” Malek warned, his eyes darkening while a growl threaded through my name and completely undermined the warning.
I smiled, which was probably a mistake.
Malek kissed me hard enough that I stepped backward before his arm caught me around the waist. He followed without giving me more than enough space to breathe, his mouth moving from mine to my throat and back while his purr roughened with every reaction he pulled from me.
The shirt rode higher as he lifted me enough to settle me onto a flat stone ledge beneath the shelter.
The rock was cool against the backs of my thighs, and I sucked in a breath at the contrast before Malek stepped between my knees.
By the time his fingers curled beneath the hem of his shirt, my own patience was disappearing. I lifted my arms, and Malek pulled the fabric over my head. Instead of dropping it onto the stone, he folded it loosely over the top of my camera bag before turning back to me.
I blinked at him. “You really stopped to make sure my camera was covered?” I asked Malek as I reached for his shoulders again, unable to hide the amusement in my voice.
“It matters to you.” Malek answered simply, his hands settling against my waist as he stepped back between my knees. That answer did absolutely nothing to help the situation.
“Come here.” I caught Malek by the shoulders and pulled him back toward me.
His quiet laugh disappeared when I kissed him again, and after that neither of us bothered pretending we were going to slow down.
The rain had left the air cooler beneath the overhang, but my skin felt overheated wherever Malek touched me.
I pulled the compact field blanket from the bottom of my pack—the thin, waterproof-backed one I carried for long waits on wet ground—and spread it over the driest section of stone.
My camera remained zipped safely inside its protected bag beneath Malek’s shirt.
Once that was handled, I sat long enough to tug off my boots and socks, setting both beside my pack where the rock was dry.
I stood again and unfastened my damp field pants.
They caught briefly at my calves before I stepped out of them, and my underwear followed.
Malek watched without pretending otherwise, his chest rising with one deeper breath while cedar thickened around us.
I reached for the button of his pants myself. “Your turn.” I hooked two fingers into Malek’s waistband and looked up at him, making the invitation clear while my thumb brushed deliberately along the warm skin just above the fabric.
Malek’s purr dropped lower as he toed off his boots, removed the rest of his clothing, and set everything beside mine instead of letting any of it fall into the damp leaves beyond the blanket. Even now, apparently, neither of us had lost all practical thought.
By the time he reached for me again, there was nothing left between us.
Malek eased me down onto the blanket, and slick already coated the inside of my thighs.
That part was familiar. Malek was not. He settled over me, one forearm braced beside my head while his other hand moved slowly along my side.
His golden-brown eyes were darker than usual, his lips swollen from kissing me, and there was considerably less of the controlled Head Alpha in his expression than there had been that morning.
“You’re staring.” I slid one hand over Malek’s shoulder, feeling muscle shift beneath my palm while his eyes continued moving over me.
“I know.” Malek answered without the slightest embarrassment, his gaze returning to my face only after taking his time.
“You usually pretend to be more subtle.” I teased Malek as his hand moved lower, making it considerably harder to keep the challenge in my voice.
“I don’t feel like it.” Malek admitted, his attention dropping over me again while his thumb traced the curve of my hip.
The admission wiped the teasing reply right out of my head, and I caught the back of his neck and dragged him down into another kiss.
Malek took his time learning what made me react, but there was nothing clinical about the attention.
Every sound I made seemed to take another piece out of his restraint, his purr deepening whenever I pulled him closer and roughening whenever my scent became sweeter.
His mouth traced my collarbone and then lower.
When he closed his lips around one nipple, the sudden heat and wet suction dragged a sharp sound from me that echoed softly against the stone behind us.
Malek did it again, his tongue circling slowly before the edge of his teeth grazed sensitive skin, never hard enough to hurt.
I arched beneath him and felt the answering growl travel through his chest.
“Too pleased with yourself.” I accused Malek breathlessly when I caught the satisfaction in his face after another reaction he clearly liked.
“I am pleased.” Malek answered against my skin, making no attempt whatsoever to deny it.
“That honesty is going to become a problem.” I warned Malek, although my fingers were already curling around his shoulders to pull him closer.
“Later.” Malek murmured, his mouth moving lower before I could come up with another complaint.
Then he made remembering the rest of the conversation impossible.
Malek kissed down my stomach without rushing, his mouth warm against my skin while his hands followed the curve of my waist and hips.
When he settled between my thighs, I expected the hunger I could smell on him to make him impatient.
Instead, he pressed one lingering kiss against the inside of my knee, then another higher and another after that until I was the one losing patience.
“Malek.” I breathed his name as my fingers found his hair.
He answered with a low purr against my inner thigh before his mouth found me.
The first pass of his tongue sent a jolt through me sharp enough that my hips lifted from the blanket, but Malek caught me with both hands and did it again.
His grip stayed firm around my thighs as his tongue moved over me, changing pressure and rhythm according to every reaction I gave him.
When my legs tried to close around his shoulders, his purr vibrated directly against me and made the problem considerably worse.
I gasped, and Malek answered with a growl.
His tongue slid lower, gathering slick before returning to the bundle of nerves that had me shifting restlessly beneath him.
When he pressed two fingers against my entrance, I opened easily for him.
He pushed inside slowly, and the curl of his fingers found the spot that made my back arch, my hand tightening in his hair.
“Good?” Malek asked against me, his eyes lifting to my face while his hand remained exactly where I wanted it.
“Don’t stop.” I answered Malek, my voice breaking enough that the instruction came out closer to a plea.
He didn’t.