Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dahlia
I wake to the sound of deep breaths so close I can almost feel the sound cascading directly into my ear.
A shiver rushes down my spine, and all my hairs stand on end. The breathing is endlessly deep, rumbling in my bones and pulling me completely from sleep.
I peer over my shoulder and down the length of the bed, squinting through the dark to see a large body lying horizontally just below my feet.
Lagos.
And that breathing is him… asleep. So, deeply relaxed.
I sigh heavily, pointing my toes to brush the side of his form. The room and the roadhouse seem to disappear, or maybe its shelter is no longer significant. I have him.
Help me; I’m completely and utterly falling in love with this emotionally unavailable, inhuman male.
After quickly checking Spero, I sit with a quiet wince and stare down at the huge Xin De monster at the foot of my bed. His knees hang off, legs bent, and feet planted on the floor—he’s massive.
It’s dim here, but I can see that he is bare-chested, only wearing briefs. I can’t tell the colour, but a long bulge lays over his thigh like he grew a forearm from his groin.
I swallow.
Snap my eyes up.
Deep shadows and subtle highlights contour his strong features. His long, dark lashes lay on his cheeks, and, somehow, he is even more striking when he sleeps.
My gaze slides down his face, revelling in this stolen moment. He has high cheekbones and a perfect nose, straight but not too prominent. His half-parted lips look soft, surrounded by a neat brown beard that is so male.
Kiss him…
My eyes drift to where Tomar sleeps soundly and back to Lagos again. My mouth suddenly dries.
I part my lips to breathe, finding my chest tight from the overflowing nervous energy as I lean forward.
Oh my, he is stunning.
Not like a flower or a painting.
His beauty is too unforgettable to be simple lines and perfect patterns. His beauty is a forest fire, wild and unpredictable, rugged and fierce. You get lost in it… Or burnt.
Without thinking, without a drop of sense, I hover my lips above his, drawing in his warm, deep breath.
“What are you doing, little flower?”
I gasp. “Please don’t move or wake up.” My lips brush his while I talk, and I nearly collapse for more. “Please, keep your eyes closed. I want to be alone with you. I want to pretend you won't throw hurtful words at me."
He is humming as I speak, ignoring my words, as my lips touch his, his hand feeding between my hair and neck. He grips the nape of my neck with gentle dominance and pulls my lips to meet his.
I. Melt.
Energy skitters along my skin.
He tastes sweet and metallic, and his eyes are still closed as his mouth moves over mine slowly, leisurely. Perfectly. Lagos tastes my lower lip, groaning through me as he sweeps his tongue in to taste more. And more.
My eyes flutter shut.
I don’t know what to do. I’ve never been kissed like this before. It is so much, so intimate, so personal. I want to bounce and giggle, but that would break the kiss. The kiss I never want to end.
My pulse buzzes in every cell and my hands fumble with where to be. On the mattress? On his bare chest?
I end up leaning with my palms flexing on his hard chest, supporting myself and my torso so my rib doesn’t cause a scene and ruin the moment.
This moment.
The moment Lagos kisses me.
He lifts his free hand to the other side of my neck, thumbs sliding under my jaw, one stroking my pulse up and down, both guiding me against him.
My core clenches.
I can’t stop the moans rolling from me now, can’t stifle them, then?—
He breaks our kiss and presses my forehead to his. “ Shh , little flower. I don’t want Tomar to hear your sweet moans. They are mine.”
I pant in the darkness of my eyelids, senses stolen, along with all the air in my lungs. “Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for.
More.
So much more.
His hum of amusement strokes my face. “It’s not fair, is it?”
“What’s not fair?” I whisper, every muscle frozen on a cliff’s edge, wanting to leap off but not to die, to feel something.
Something explosive.
“The way your cunt begs for me.” The pulse of his dark, vulgar utterance hits my lips, matching the one that flurries in the column of my neck.
I nod, my forehead moving against his. “Yes. It’s not fair.”
“At the next stop, I will take care of that warm, tight place between your thighs. The last time I touched you, you were weak and drugged. This time, you can pretend I made you. Forced you. I will make it all better in secret. In the dark where you yearn for my depravities.”
Oh, my. “ Yes .”
He chuckles darkly. “You can guard your soft heart, but your pussy will weep with pleasure when I touch it. The monster inside me will come for you, little flower, and it’ll claim every inch of your purity. Are you sure you want that?”
I squirm on the mattress, uncomfortable, wet heat gathering in my knickers. I’ll do anything for that.
Anything.
I breathe the word, “ Yes .”
And then he slides out from under me, leaving me bent over an empty space that vibrates with his warmth and scent.
Intoxicated by my first kiss with Lagos, I slowly straighten and open my eyes to the shadowy room. Oh, my; he woke up. He woke up! He woke up while I was stealing a kiss. Mortified, I imagine dissolving into the mattress, a puddle of silly goo.
And now he’s leaving?
He didn’t want that.
Rejection washes over me.
I search the cluttered, dimly lit room to find Tomar a sleeping silhouette in the corner, and Lagos pulling his jeans on.
His huge length slaps his abdomen as he has to physically tuck it in to get the zip over it. A rock-hard outline forms. It is any surprise that it doesn’t tear the seams.
I can sew…
I could fix that.
If it did.
Groaning at my silly thoughts, I cup my forehead. I have a fever. I’m sick. Hot. Clammy. Help.
Questions churn in my mind but don’t find their way out. Why… Why are you leaving the room? Who are you going to see? Did I put him in the mood ? The one Sweets spoke about.
“Lagos?” is all I end on.
“Where are you going?” Tomar is sitting up in the dark, and I instinctively drop to my spine. Pain slides between my ribs like a knife through butter. I cry out and cup the area.
“Are you okay?” Tomar asks.
“Flower…” Lagos pauses by the door, looking like he is about to lunge for me, but then Spero starts to fuss, and Tomar is sleepily standing.
“I’m okay.” I cut the air between us with my hand, defensive. Lagos was going to leave. He should just go.
He stills. Stares.
“Out,” he finally answers Tomar, disappearing from the room, leaving me with a pool of need between my thighs, perspiration misting my skin, and the hammering of neglect crushing my chest into my lungs.
“I’ll feed him.” Tomar rubs his hand down his face, ambling over to me. “You can get some more sleep, Dahlia. We have a long drive tomorrow, and you look wrecked.”
Wrecked.
That’s a very accurate word.