Chapter 32 #3
His expression twisted into a frown. It wasn’t the answer he wanted.
Taking hold of my hand, he drew it to his mouth, grazing his teeth over the palm.
I shuddered against the contact that sent shivers down my spine.
He gently pressed his lips to the inside of my hand, and there was a strange kind of reverence in the gesture.
He continued his exploration of my forearm, peppering a trail of kisses to the inside of my wrist.
He wanted to slow things down, I realized. Well, screw that.
Used his grip on my hand as leverage, I drew him closer and crushed my lips against his for the second time.
I felt him smile against my lips. “So impatient,” he murmured.
I gave him a hard poke in the ribs. “You’re doing it again,” I admonished.
“Ow! Doing what?”
“Being an ass.”
He laughed. “Was I? In that case, you have my sincerest apologies.”
I kissed him again, more insistently this time, tracing my tongue over the seam of his lips.
He gave a pained groan, drawing back long enough to meet my gaze as his fingers curled around my throat. His eyes burned so dark they were almost black. “Sometimes, I think you might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” he murmured.
A strangled noise escaped my throat, somewhere between a laugh and an objection. How right he was. But I huffed a laugh and replied, “Believe me, the feeling’s mutual.”
That hard, gem-like quality in his gaze melted, softening as he smirked down at me. His hand was still clasped around my throat.
“Are you going to kiss me now, or will you waste more time making excuses?” I demanded, unsure where this bold, brazen Arden had come from.
His eyes flashed a second before his lips collided with mine, and this time, the kiss was urgent, more like our first kiss beneath the fairy lights at the Yu-Ri manor. His hand left my throat to thread through my curls, anchoring me to him.
Refusing to let him take control, I kissed him back hard enough to leave bruises, forgetting the blistering heat of the fire and reveling in the warmth in his touch.
His lips seared me at each point of contact, kindling the fire in my blood until I was sure I would burn, a mortal body razed to ash.
Dimly, I wondered why I didn’t spend more time kissing Casimir.
I began to regret my choice of denims, as they made maneuvering somewhat difficult, though they didn’t stop me from climbing onto Casimir’s lap in the course of the kiss.
A familiar heat was beginning to build in my core. As Casimir’s hands moved lower to snake around my waist, a frustrated whimper escaped my lips. I’d told him I wanted this, so why was he holding back? I tugged his lower lip between my teeth, biting down hard to get the message across.
“I’m not made of glass,” I hissed against his lips.
He drew back, his lips swollen and cherry red, eyes wholly dark. He huffed a short laugh when I tugged at his curls, a little harder than necessary.
I didn’t have time to do more than gasp as he knotted his fingers into the hair at the back of my skull, angling my head back so that I had to look down through my lashes to see him.
“Are you always so violent?” he murmured.
“Only with you,” I breathed.
He laughed softly against my skin, and then, without warning, sank his teeth into the curve of flesh between my neck and shoulder. I expected him to make it hurt, to prove that he could hurt me, too, but he was gentle, teasing.
I dragged a hand beneath his sweater, wanting to be closer, to remove the barriers between his skin and mine.
Understanding my intent, he yanked off his sweater, allowing me access, but still, I couldn’t get close enough.
I wanted to crawl inside his skin and live there.
If his scent had been overpowering while we studied, it was nothing in comparison to now; heady, brimming with smoke and leather.
I tore my lips away only long enough to rip off my sweater and toss it into a corner, feeling Casimir’s gaze on me as he tracked the movement.
To no avail, however.
The Darkseer made no move to touch me further, maintaining his hold on my curls and the barest graze of his fingers along my ribcage. I ground my hips against him, nipping at his throat for emphasis. He hissed at the contact and drew back long enough to meet my gaze. “Stop that,” he growled.
“Why?” I challenged him, my voice coming out breathless.
He shook his head. “Farrow, I want to be clear, this was not what I expected when I asked you to come over…”
I rolled my eyes at his gallantry. “Yes, yes, you are ever the gentleman.” I was growing impatient. “Can we continue kissing now, please?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Have you decided what it is you want?”
“From you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You’re such a bad liar.”
I silenced him with a bruising kiss.
When I stealthily tried to remove my bra a few minutes later, he clasped my hands together and pulled them behind me, gently but firmly.
“No, Farrow,” he purred as he continued tracing my neck and collarbones with his lips.
I growled in frustration. I wanted him to stop holding me back, or at the very least, release my hands, but I knew he wouldn’t, not unless I told him exactly what he wanted to hear.
Casimir believed I only wanted him for a distraction—a reprieve from the stress of the last few weeks—and for that reason alone, he didn’t want to take things further.
That, or he simply wanted to win this battle.
It seemed that we’d finally crashed up against a wall, and now we would learn if desire would win out over stubbornness and pride.
“Let me touch you,” I pleaded, desperation bleeding into my voice.
He laughed softly against my flushed cheek. “You are touching me.”
I growled in frustration.
Just say it, the voice inside my head urged me. Just tell him what you want. Be honest.
“Please?”
“Are we begging now, Farrow?” he purred against my jaw.
Fuck you, I thought, and clamped my teeth onto his throat hard enough to draw blood. He hardly even flinched. “Gods, you’re infuriating,” I hissed into his ear. “Sometimes you make me hate you.”
It was hardly even a lie. I hated him for making me want him this badly.
Here I was, on his lap, literally begging him to touch me, and he had the audacity to make a game out of my wanting.
My regret over my duplicity with the Book of Erebos was even starting to wane in the wake of this torture.
Casimir pressed a kiss in the hollow of my throat, smiling against my skin.
I shuddered. My hands were still bound behind me, held between one of his own.
“How much do you hate me?”
“So much.” I gasped as his teeth grazed my neck.
“Liar,” he growled. He bit down harder, and I groaned against the feeling, straddling the edge of pain and pleasure.
My entire body was trembling with desire. He’d only given me a taste, and I needed more.
“This isn’t fair, you know,” I breathed.
He drew back to meet my gaze with eyes like dark jewels. Time seemed to slow, stretching out between us. His tongue traced the hollow of my pulse point before he replied, “Nothing is ever fair for you mortals.”
I stifled a moan of pleasure, no longer able to deny the way my body responded to his touch. My nipples peaked against my bra as I ground closer to his taut chest, all too aware of my core throbbing beneath my jeans. I was trembling all over. I didn’t know how much longer I could stand this.
At long last, my need for him prevailed over my reluctance to give him what he wanted: a confession. Drawing back, I took a steadying breath, painfully aware of how mortifying this was—of how desperate I must be to beg for what I wanted. To swallow my pride and let him win this battle.
Casimir waited, his body tense beneath mine.
“I would’ve thought it was obvious,” I began. You can do this. Just say the words.
His eyes were glittering in anticipation of what he already knew to be true. “Say it,” he commanded.
The confession came as quickly as if he’d stolen it from my tongue. “I’ve wanted you since the first night we met,” I breathed.
I searched his eyes for signs of surprise or even dismay, but found only dark desire.
At once, he released my hands and pulled me closer; our mouths met in a brutal kiss.
Experimentally, I traced the seam of his lower lip with my tongue.
When Casimir’s lips parted, he groaned into my mouth, and I felt a thrill of triumph.
The hard angles of his body melted against the dips and curves of my own until we were fused together, like two celestial bodies hurtling toward some dark unknown.
I drank him in with my lips and tongue, memorizing each contour and plane of his body until I knew him by touch alone.
I forgot about my betrayal and my bloodbargain.
I even forgot to gasp for air until Casimir tore his lips away and resumed his exploration of my throat.
Yes. Yes, finally, I thought. When I reached to tug at his belt, he stayed my hand.
I froze, afraid he was going to stop me, but to my surprise, he quirked a brow and asked, “Should we… go upstairs?”
“Yes,” I said, so quickly and with such eagerness that he laughed.
I was trembling with a cocktail of nerves and excitement by the time we reached the loft.
And the massive white bed I’d once slept in.
I shoved away my anxieties and slid across the bed, pulling my knees in toward my chest and glancing uncertainly up at Casimir.
He was still standing next to the bed, his brows furrowed with some internal conflict.
“We can just go to sleep, if you prefer,” he suggested, a wary expression lining his features. “You must be exhausted.”
I frowned. “Is that what you want?”
“It isn’t up to me.”