Chapter Thirty-One Inana #2
The view of his profile reveals his tight jaw, the slight baring of his teeth. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. His tone dips so low, it sends a shiver through me. “I think we both know that isn’t true.”
His eyes drift ever so slightly toward me, just a glance from his peripheral vision. I hold his gaze without falter, and he quickly looks away, lashes fluttering as if he’s been granted a moment of sweet euphoria. The veins in his hands bulge from how tightly he squeezes them.
Heat blossoms in my core, sparked by his reaction to me.
He’s struggling. With want. With desire.
I can read it in the stiff lines of his muscles.
In the tic at the corner of his jaw. This energy isn’t new, and it filled the cave to the brim all night.
Filled us both in the wake of that strange dream we shared.
Even before that, when we rode at the front of the wagon together and I touched his skin while he used layered words to describe the heat between us, the burn we’d feel if we gave in.
Before that it was the kiss we almost shared on the roof. This has been growing for weeks.
The memories set me aflame, and my nipples pebble where the warmth of the fire, the heat of my desire, and the ice in the air collide.
“You don’t have to be a gentleman,” I say. “I’m letting you look now.”
A soft sound escapes him. The ghost of a groan. Still, he refuses to turn around. “You should get some sleep now that it’s daylight.”
I take a tentative step closer. Then another, keeping close to the fire. “Are you going to keep me warm, then? Just like you did yesterday?”
A beat of silence. Then, “Are you saying you want me naked beside you?”
“For the sake of warmth.”
Another silence, and this one stretches long.
Then the sound of my breaths growing heavier fills the air, and I know he can hear it too.
Just like I can hear his, see the way his back expands and contracts with the force of them.
The crackle of the fire weaves through them, conducting a melody at the crossroads we’ve reached. Which way will he choose to waltz?
He could take my bait.
Turn around.
And give in to my taunting and stoke the embers already burning between us.
Or he can draw a firm line. Tell me how important his mission is. That this kind of desire is a distraction and we should never entertain it again.
The thought of him taking the latter road already leaves me cold. Empty.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt desire like this, and I don’t want to let it go. Because on the other side of this growing need are all the things I don’t want to think about. The truths I’ve learned. The answers I’ve yet to uncover. The uncertain future.
I still don’t know if I can trust Dominic. I don’t know if the things I’ve learned about him make me hate him more or less.
But this isn’t about trust or even hate or like.
It’s about want.
It’s about arousal.
And I want mine fucking sated.
“Let’s just get this out of our systems,” I say, giving him one more nudge.
Slowly, he turns, and a spark of victory shoots through me.
Then the weight of his hungry stare lands on me, and I’m no longer certain I’m the one with the power here.
He locks his gaze on mine, pointedly keeping his eyes from straying to the rest of my body, even as I stand taller, even as I step closer, give him more to look at.
It’s maddening how he withholds his attention, refuses to drink me in with that same sweeping look he gave me when he entered the cave.
Like a hunter stalking his prey, he draws a few steps closer. “Then you know what needs to be done.”
I give him a questioning look.
“I told you that the next time you wanted my touch, you were going to beg for it.” He steps closer until he’s just a foot away. He still doesn’t let his eyes move lower down my body. Instead, his dark irises burn into mine as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “So beg, sinner.”
The way he says sinner isn’t an insult, and I wonder if it ever was.
In this moment it’s a seduction, and the demand in his tone has me salivating.
The tingling warmth between my legs burns hotter.
He’s testing me now. Turning my taunting back on me and seeing how far I’m willing to go.
Are we just baiting each other? Playing?
Seeing which of us will break first? One of us always does.
Today it won’t be me.
I close an inch of space, brushing my tangled hair off my shoulders to ensure every inch of my skin is in full view. “Please,” I say, my tone soft and sweet and so unlike how I normally speak to him.
He lifts his chin, looking down at me in a way that should make me feel small but only makes me want to rise higher. “More,” he grunts out.
I step closer again, still holding his eyes, and this time I reach for him. My fingers fall on the buckles of his jerkin. One at a time, I undo them. He lets me slide the cold leather off his chest, then down his arms. “Please.”
“More.”
I reach for the hem of his shirt now, slowly lifting it from his waistband.
My palms skate up his chest as I tug it higher.
He aids my efforts at the last minute, and as his shirt comes over his head, I step in to close the rest of the space between us.
He sucks in a breath as my breasts press against his torso, and as he drops his shirt to the ground, he finally lets himself look at me, at the press of our bodies.
He bites his bottom lip as I pull back slightly, letting him watch the way my nipples graze the raised lines of his scarred chest.
He lifts a hand, and I expect him to touch me at last, but he drops it before he can make contact. Closing his eyes, he tilts his head back, his tenuous hold on his control betrayed only by the smile that flicks over his lips. “This doesn’t feel like begging,” he says, voice thick.
He’s a fucking liar, but I like this game.
So I hook my fingers beneath his waistband and tug him along with me, one step at a time, until we reach our makeshift bed.
I lower myself onto my knees upon the pine-stuffed fabric.
Then, keeping the rest of my body upright, I stare up at him as I undo his trousers.
His breaths come hard and fast with every button I unfasten.
When I finally pull his waistband down, his cock springs out fully erect.
I let myself admire it up close, its massive length, its impressive girth, before returning my eyes to his. “Please?” I part my lips and flick out my tongue, closing in toward the head of his cock.
He crouches down, bringing his face before mine as he holds my chin between his fingers. There’s something feral in his gaze as he bares his teeth, displaying his pointed canines. “You think I’m going to let you put your mouth on my cock before I’ve even kissed you?”
I scoff. “I told you not to be a gentleman.” My words come out breathless. “This isn’t about romance. It’s about fucking.”
His eyes fall to my mouth, and he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. That wicked grin returns to his face. “If you want to fuck my cock, then you’ll fuck my tongue too, however I want it.”
I nearly collapse at those words. The need burning in my core only grows, my thighs slick with it. “Fine.”
“Say it, love. Beg.”
I part my lips again. Lean forward an inch. “Please, Dominic.”
He crushes his mouth to mine.