Chapter 19 Nolan #2
“I would,” I say, before she can answer him. I don’t want to know how she feels about me possibly kissing Dorian because it will never happen.
He exhales a soft laugh. “Very well. I know when I’m not welcome.”
“You know, just because you are royalty and I’m a low-born warlock, doesn’t mean you can play with me or narrate what I feel or don’t feel.”
“I never narrate,” he says. “I merely observe.”
“Observe from further away,” Lindsay says sweetly, and he throws his head back with a deep laugh that settles low in my spine.
“Come on,” I say quietly to her. “Breakfast. Before he starts doing an interpretive dance about the prophecy or something.”
She huffs a laugh as I tug her away. And still I feel Dorian’s eyes on us as we leave.
“That was…” she says the second we are around a corner and out of view. “...Hot.”
“Hot?” I sputter.
What part of that could have possibly been hot?
“Yeah. I’m sure Dorian isn’t told no often. And you just put him in his place with a few words. Your confidence is sexy.”
I laugh. “Sexy? I don’t think sexy and me go together.”
“Oh, you do.” She smiles and pulls me toward a doorway that leads to an empty room. “I don’t think you can see how attracted I am to you. And I’m not surprised that Dorian wants you, too. You’re very want-able.”
“That’s not a word.”
“It is now,” she shoots back, tugging me fully into the empty classroom and kicking the door shut behind us with her heel.
The room smells faintly like chalk and old parchment. Sunlight spills in through tall arched windows, catching dust in the air. It feels suspended. Quiet.
She steps into me again, hands sliding up my chest as though she’s mapping something she’s already memorized.
“You are very want-able,” she repeats, softer this time. “You’re steady. You’re kind. You don’t posture. You don’t need to.”
My brain is still stuck on the word sexy.
“I’m not—” I start, and she presses a finger to my lips.
“Don’t,” she murmurs. “Don’t minimize yourself because it makes you more comfortable.”
That hits harder than Dorian’s teasing ever could. Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then back up.
“You stood your ground,” she says. “You didn’t snap or get flustered. You just…chose your boundary and held it.”
My pulse jumps.
“I was annoyed.”
She smiles slowly. “You were confident.”
I swallow. “That’s not the same thing.”
“It kind of is,” she says, sliding her hands up to my shoulders. “And it was hot.”
Heat creeps up my neck again.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it was.” Her thumb brushes along my collarbone. “You don’t have to be brooding and dangerous to be attractive, Nolan. Sometimes quiet power is louder.”
Quiet power.
I look at her.
“And you’re really okay?” I ask, because that’s the part I still don’t fully trust. “With…with him pushing? With the idea that maybe—”
“That maybe there’s a shift happening?” she finishes.
I nod.
She studies me for a second—really studies me.
“I don’t want you shrinking yourself to stay safe,” she says. “Not for me. Not for anyone.”
Her hand slides into mine.
“If something is changing between you and Dorian, I’d rather it be honest and chosen than shoved into the dark where it festers.”
I exhale slowly.
“You’re terrifyingly, emotionally mature,” I mutter.
She laughs. “Don’t spread that around. I have a reputation.”
My shoulders loosen. “I really am not planning on kissing him,” I say, needing to ground the moment. “He just…”
“He’s just intense and flirty?”
“Yeah, he is.”
She steps in closer, her body warm against mine. “But just so we’re clear,” she adds, “if anyone gets to fluster you like that, it’s me.”
Before I can respond, she kisses me until my toes curl, and I’m hanging on to her. All thoughts of Dorian are gone, erased by her, because she really is all I need.
Her kiss is like a spark to dry tinder, igniting something deep in my chest that I've been trying to keep contained.
Lindsay's lips move against mine with a hunger that matches the wild pulse of her magic—unpredictable, volatile, and utterly addictive.
My hands find her waist, pulling her closer until there's no space left between us, her curves pressing into me in a way that makes my breath hitch.
She tastes like storm clouds and sweetness, her tongue teasing mine as she deepens the kiss.
I groan into her mouth, the sound low and involuntary, my fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt.
The empty classroom feels smaller now, the air thick with the scent of old books and chalk dust, but all I can focus on is her— the way her body molds to mine, the soft gasp she makes when I nip at her lower lip.
"Lindsay," I murmur against her skin. I trail kisses down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear, where her pulse races like a drumbeat.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently, sending shivers down my spine.
Gods, she's everything—fierce, beautiful, and mine in this moment, even if we're building something bigger with the others.
She arches into me, her hands sliding under my shirt, palms hot against my bare skin.
The bond between us hums, a warm thread of energy that amplifies every touch, every brush of her nails along my back.
I lift her effortlessly onto the edge of the nearest desk, stepping between her legs as she wraps them around my waist. The wood creaks under her weight, but I don't care—nothing exists outside this.
Her breath comes in short, heated bursts as I kiss along her collarbone, my hands roaming up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher.
The fabric bunches, exposing smooth skin that I trace with my fingertips, eliciting a soft moan from her that echoes in the quiet room.
"Nolan," she whispers, her voice laced with need, her eyes dark with desire when I pull back just enough to meet her gaze.
I lean in again, capturing her mouth while one hand cups her breast through her shirt, thumb circling the peak until she whimpers against my lips.
The heat building between us is intoxicating, her magic flaring faintly, like sparks dancing along our skin.
I want more—to peel away the layers between us, to feel her completely—but I hold back, savoring the slow burn, the way she trembles under my touch.
"You're mine," I say, the words possessive yet tender, my forehead resting against hers as we both catch our breath. "No matter what shifts or changes with the others."
Her smile turns wicked, the kind that makes my stomach flip and my blood run hotter. Those dark eyes—storm-blue now, flecked with the faint glow of her waking power—lock on mine like she’s seeing straight through every careful wall I’ve ever built.
“I like the sound of that,” she says, voice low and husky, each word a deliberate stroke against my nerves. “Yours.”
One simple syllable, and it washes over me and tries to drown me. My breath catches. The bond between us flares brighter, a warm current that races from my chest straight down my spine, pooling low. I can feel her—every flicker of want, every pulse of need mirroring mine.
“Lindsay…” Her name is half warning, half plea. I’m trying to be the good one, the steady one, the nerd who thinks before he acts. But right now, with her legs still wrapped around me, skirt rucked high, thighs gripping my hips, thinking feels like a distant, useless skill.
She doesn’t let me retreat. Her fingers slide up the back of my neck, nails grazing my scalp in that way she knows undoes me. She pulls me down until our foreheads touch again, lips brushing mine with every word.
“Say it again,” she whispers. “Tell me I’m yours.”
Heat floods my face, my chest, everywhere. I swallow hard. “You’re mine.” The words come out rougher this time, edged with something possessive I didn’t know I had in me until her. “And I’m yours. Always have been.”
Her lips curve against mine. “Good boy.”
That does it.
I kiss her hard—less careful and restrained.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth, claiming the taste of her as if I’ve been starving for it.
She moans softly, the sound vibrating into me, and her hips roll up in a slow, deliberate grind against the hard length straining behind my trousers.
The friction is electric. I groan into her mouth, hands sliding under her thighs to lift her higher, pinning her more firmly against me so I can rock forward and chase that delicious pressure.
Her shirt is half-unbuttoned now—I don’t even remember doing it.
My palm cups her breast fully this time, thumb brushing over the stiff peak through thin lace.
She arches, head tipping back, exposing the long line of her throat.
I drag my mouth down it, sucking lightly at her pulse point until she gasps my name like a prayer.
“Nolan—please—”
I pull back just enough to look at her: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, eyes glassy with want. The faint blue threads of her magic shimmer along her collarbone, dancing in time with her heartbeat. Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.
I slide one hand between us, fingers tracing the damp heat at the apex of her thighs through her underwear. She jolts, thighs tightening around me.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur, voice gravel-rough. My thumb circles slowly, teasing, watching every tiny reaction flicker across her face. “Anything. I’ll give it to you.”
Her breath hitches. She grabs my wrist—not to stop me, but to press my hand harder against her.
“Touch me,” she says, no hesitation. “Make me feel it. Make me forget everything else—just for a little while.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I hook a finger under the edge of lace and drag it aside.
She’s slick, hot, ready—and the first glide of my fingers through her folds pulls a broken whimper from her throat.
I circle her clit with slow, deliberate pressure, learning every hitch of her breath, every tremble.
When I slip one finger inside her, she clenches around me, tight and perfect, and I nearly lose what little control I have left.
“Gods, Lindsay…” I bury my face against her neck, breathing her in while I work her slowly, curling my finger just right, thumb still stroking that sensitive bundle of nerves. Her hips buck, chasing the rhythm, soft desperate sounds spilling from her lips.
She’s close already—I can feel it in the way she flutters around me, the way her magic flares brighter, how the shadows curl around us, tiny sparks licking along my skin like static kisses.
“Come for me,” I whisper against her ear, voice shaking with how badly I want this. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. Her whole body tenses—and then she shatters.
The cry she makes is muffled against my neck, but I feel every pulse, every wave of pleasure rolling through her. Her magic flares wild for a heartbeat, light bursting behind my closed eyelids, warm and alive and wrapping around us both like a cocoon.
I hold her through it, fingers still moving gently, drawing out every aftershock until she’s trembling, boneless against me.
When she finally lifts her head, her eyes are soft, dazed, glowing faintly. She cups my face with both hands and kisses me slow, deep, as though she’s pouring everything she feels back into me.
“Thank you,” she breathes against my lips.
I smile, heart hammering, still painfully hard against her. “Anytime,” I manage, voice wrecked. “Literally. Anytime.”
She laughs—soft, breathless—and nips my bottom lip. “Your turn soon. I’m not nearly finished with you.”
The promise in her voice sends another jolt straight through me.
I’m already counting the seconds until we can steal another empty classroom.