Chapter 28
Nelle
Watching Graysen work was mesmerizing and far too intimate.
I should have closed my eyes and shut him out. But I was spellbound by the quiet concentration on his face, the subtle dilation of pupils and faint gathering of lines at his brows, as he carefully wiped the last of the sweet-smelling clay from my temple.
Liar, liar, liar…
I wasn’t sure if he’d realized what he’d done—overwhelmed my senses.
He’d moaned my name during that stupid squabble of ours.
I’d wanted to shame him into leaving, but the prick hadn’t left.
He’d challenged me right back. While my tone dripped with ridicule, his gravelly voice sank lower, edged with that growl.
Deeper and frayed with desperation, as if he had dragged my name up from the depths of his black soul.
And I’d fallen into that strange, suspended place again, where my awareness untethered and something ancient and feral claimed its place. All that remained was his pull and my surrender.
His want strummed a low bassline in time with my heart. Our hearts.
I’d wanted to sink my teeth into the soft, vulnerable spot in his neck. Relish the sweet metallic sting of coppery blood. Have it coat my teeth and sweep across my tongue. Dig my fingernails into his flesh and scrawl my tale across his body in wordless marks.
I’d risen on my toes, the sway drawing me to him because of what he’d wanted. He’d commanded me in a primal, animalistic display simply because he desired me.
Graysen couldn’t learn what power he had over me. Ever.
I had enough to deal with. My birthday wasn’t far away, and I’d be bound to Graysen’s will for the rest of my life—however short that might be. Between now and then, he’d own me completely.
Graysen stretched his arms around my sides to rinse sticky clay from the washcloth, bringing him even closer. I couldn’t see what he was doing behind my back, but I was fairly certain he’d neatly folded the cloth and placed it on the vanity’s shallow recess.
He performed it all without breaking eye contact.
I wasn’t even sure I’d blinked in all the time he’d been working on his task.
The falling water abruptly cut off, and he withdrew, only to brace his hands on either side of me, caging me in. His gaze dipped lower to caress the curve of my cheek sensually. “Soft, huh?”
The words fell from my mouth before I had a chance to catch them. “Super soft. Go on, touch me if you like.”
I thought he’d raise his hand to stroke a fingertip across my jawline. Instead, he lowered his head and brought his lips a mere inch from mine.
Time stopped. Or slowed. I couldn’t tell. He was sinfully seductive. Greedy with need. I didn’t know if I was going to kiss him or if he’d kiss me.
I didn’t know if I wanted him to.
The bathroom grew hotter with every wild beat of my heart. Crackling energy flowed between us the longer we held each other’s gaze. I hadn’t realized my lips had parted in invitation until dark triumph flashed through his eyes like the last burst of light at sundown.
Slowly, so languid and slow, his mouth drifted away to brush along my cheekbone. The prickle of his bristled chin abrading my skin only made the ache of longing sweeter.
My lashes fluttered as I bit back a moan.
His voice was rich and resonant. “Soft as silk.” The words vibrating against my temple sent feverish desire skittering through my body, and my fingers tightened hard on the vanity edge. If I had his strength, I imagined I might have cracked the stone like he had done to the bookshelf earlier.
Holy Skalki…
When he pulled back, I stared into half-hooded eyes, smoldering with satisfaction at my body’s reaction.
I suddenly became aware that my lungs were scorching hot with constricted air.
The bastard noticed. “Breathe.”
My nostrils flared with a spike of anger before I exhaled, dragging in a quick breath.
But for the towel hanging around his neck, Graysen was naked.
Hard. Every single glorious inch of him.
And shamelessly standing before me, fully erect.
I dared not look down, but I felt him. His rigid length pressed against my belly, and with every obscene throb of his erection, my inner walls clenched in carnal reply.
The sharpness of deprivation was torture, winding me tighter.
My nipples stiffened, the cotton of my dress prickling their hardened tips like thorns.
He hadn’t kissed me, nor touched me properly, and I was already coming apart, haunted by the bittersweet memory of his mouth. The echo of his tongue between my legs.
The corner of Graysen’s lips kicked up with a ruthless smile, as if he could read every truth, every dark and rapacious thought.
I spun around and my gaze collided with my reflection in the moisture-beaded glass. The white-blond hair framing cheeks flushed a sultry rose, my glistening pink lips parted on quickened breaths, the silver in my irises glittering with arousal.
Either I let him take control, as he was doing now, or I held his leash.
As long as he didn’t unleash that unearthly growl, I’d be fine.
But if I fell into the sway, it was safer to hide it behind want and desire than reveal the truth that something primal and base was slowly taking possession of my body, whispering sweet commands for me to obey.
It would be so easy to let go and drown in his body and take what I wanted.
Time was running out for me. So why not indulge myself in the meantime?
Silver met black in the mirror.
Graysen watched with guarded interest as I slowly leaned into him. His body was granite against my soft form. Granite that burned and had blood flowing beneath the golden-bronze skin. A heart, which I’d so callously taunted that he didn’t own, beat in his chest.
I tugged the towel from his neck and tossed it aside, then slid my hand up to the back of his neck, gently squeezing tense cords. “What do you want?”
He spread a hand across my midriff, pulling me closer.
“You.” He didn’t let me break away from his gaze as he dipped his head to drag sharp teeth along my throat, watching me in the mirror the entire time.
The words nipped at my flesh as he husked.
“I want you, lovely, wicked Wychthorn. Always you.”
Purposely arching back, I ground against him. He groaned, as lashes squeezed shut and his cock flexed against my back.
“You’re a bastard.” But the words came out breathlessly.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he gritted out, his fingers biting into my flesh.
I taunted him with a roll of my hips. “Your heart is going to shatter when you put me up on the auction block at the Witches Ball.”
His jaw clenched as if he were bracing himself. A moment later his eyes snapped open. A storm of emotion tumbled within their inky abyss, so swift and tangled together I couldn’t read them. His voice was gruff and pained. “I have no heart, remember?”
I tipped my chin up. “Neither do I.”
It was easier lying to each other in the mirror, our reflections marred by steam.
My chest swelled and fell with shallow breaths.
A carnal knowledge my body knew only too well had blistering heat razing outward from my aching core, and my hips were desperate to move in an ancient rhythm of desire and need.
Our height difference was too much for what I hungered for.
I braced my palms against the slippery vanity top and raised myself up higher by climbing onto the wide, flat handles of the vanity’s bottom drawer and balanced on my toes.
Confusion clouded his expression.
As I slowly drew my skirt upward in gracefully draping folds, bunching it between my fingers, I exposed the scalloped trim of my panties.
“Holy shit…” I heard him mutter under his breath. “Fuck.”
My stance allowed me to push my ass back, wiggle, and angle his cock through the apex of my parted thighs. We both let out a low curse at the delicious feel of him spearing along my sex, hidden behind arousal-damp fabric.
“Fuck…” he hissed, then groaned once more. “What are you doing?”
Taking what I wanted. Using him.
Surely it was obvious? I wiggled, bearing down on his cock, and the gruff grunt he made was so dirty hot and embarrassingly loud that I had to bite my lip to stop myself from both laughing and replying with my own indecent moan.
Oh my gods…
So godsdamned good.
He pressed a flattened hand against my spine to urge me downward gently.
But I resisted, fighting back because he wanted it too much.
A moment later, I surrendered and allowed him to position me lower.
The front of my dress gaped low. The bra barely contained my breasts, and were tantalizingly on display, yet it was my spine that captivated him.
He ran a single fingertip along the ripple of bone.
“This, your fight. That’s what I love most.”
He moved slowly with a sensual roll of his hips. The friction of his thick shaft stroking against cotton threads and hitting every single nerve ending had me gasping. And suffering for not being able to have all of him inside me as I truly wanted.
He palmed and kneaded my ass as he stroked.
I dropped my heavy head and disappeared into a white-hazed world of pleasure, staring between us where we were connected.
Lust raced through my veins as I watched the tip of his cock appear and then vanish in tandem with his powerful body moving behind me.
I could reach between my legs and touch him. Squeeze my fist around the head of his cock. Run my fingertips along the iron ridge. Reach back further and cup him.
Tipping my head back, I glanced at the mirror and realized his gaze was fixed on my parted lips. He wanted me to touch his cock. My mouth preferably. For my lips to press a sweet, chaste kiss to its glistening crown. For my tongue to swipe the slit and lick along the veined underside.
But I think what he hungered for most was for me to kiss him.