Chapter Nineteen #2
Colour rises into her cheeks, and something dark inside me enjoys it far too much so I keep her pinned to my chest for one extra heartbeat, feeling the warmth of her spreading through the thin space between us.
“No…” She pushes harder this time, and I let her go before she notices how strained I’m getting. “But I would’ve appreciated the heads-up.”
Taking a few steps back, she turns away from me like she suddenly needs the distance, and I can’t help wondering if she’s thinking about the dream Reya sent her.
Hell, I tease her for being jealous, but when Reya first told me about it—after the initial shock wore off—I’d been so pathetically jealous I could hardly take my eyes off Lyra for the whole damn briefing.
The thought of someone else touching her, even in a dream, had something feral turning over inside me.
But then I felt her.
Her emotions bleed through our shared Threadfield—heat, want, and that undeniable ache of need—and hit me straight in the chest, spreading through me as swift and venomous as a poisoned arrow dipped in pure desire.
Rock fucking solid.
Instantly.
After that, the entire briefing was pure torture. Every time I looked across the tent at her, all I could picture was my hands on her instead. My mouth. My body pinning hers down while she makes those sounds I lay awake fantasising about every night.
“Well?” she presses, turning back toward me.
“We were together for about two years.” Shoving my hands into my pockets, I adjust myself, trying to hide the growing problem there.
“When we were cadets at the Citadel. I’ve known her since we were kids, we trained with Merrin together, but we’ve been over for at least six or seven years now.
” The pressure in my groin loosens and I start closing the distance between us again.
“But that’s still not why you’re avoiding me.
” I pause a few feet from her. “So stop dancing around it and tell me what’s really going on. ”
Hope hits me stupidly fast as her mouth parts like she’s actually going to answer, but the second I step into range, she swings, a brutal hook aimed straight for my throat.
Only, Cal’s finally settled, and my attention’s locked solely on her now.
Catching her wrist before she can land the strike, I twist her around so she faces away from me, then I use the momentum to pull her back against my chest.
“Stop avoiding this,” I beg. “I can take it, Lyra. I know I hurt you, and I want to—hell, I need to—know how to fix it. How to fix us...” In the silence of my plea, I hear her breathing turn uneven, but I still lean in closer, my mouth brushing the curve of her soft cheek. “Please. Talk to me.”
Beneath my hold her entire body locks up and my grip slips for half a second. She reacts instantly, huffing and trying to wrench herself free before I can recover.
Tightening my hands, I pull her back in.
Huge mistake.
Because the second I do, she grinds her hips against mine, sending a brutal rush of heat racing to my cock so fast it nearly knocks the breath out of me. Staggering back, I release her immediately before she notices how strained and hard I’m getting.
“You’re playing dirty, Bloom…” I warn, dragging the back of my hand across my mouth, tasting sweat and ash on my tongue as she turns back to me, a satisfied expression settling across her face.
“And you're not?” Cal pushes through the crack before I can stop him. “What about telling her who you really are? Where you are really from? How long you have known—”
Not. Fucking. Now.
I slam the mental door shut, but the minute my focus fractures, Lyra lunges.
Muscles flexing, I twist sideways just in time, her fist skimming past my shoulder instead of my ribs, and before she can recover, I take the opening, locking my hand around her forearm and hooking my leg behind both of hers.
Her balance breaks instantly.
A gasp leaves her mouth as we go down, but I turn with the fall, throwing my body beneath hers so she crashes into me instead of the floor. The impact explodes through my shoulder and spine and rips the air from my lungs.
Doesn’t matter.
I keep moving, rolling with the momentum until she’s trapped beneath me.
One knee plants beside her hip, the other slides between her thighs while my hands pin her wrists above her head. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to stop her escaping.
Breathless, her eyes snap up to mine, bright and furious, but I keep her there, our chests rising hard and uneven against each other until, little by little, her pace slows and we start to fall into sync.
The corner of my mouth drags upward, hooking left before spreading wide.
Finally, I have her.
Finally, there is nowhere for her to go, no bloody way for her to run from this, from me.
“Now…” I murmur, lowering myself until my mouth hovers just shy of hers. “Why are you avoiding me, Thorn?”
Refusing to give in, her lips flatten stubbornly.
“I’ll keep you here all day if I need to.” The smirk never leaves my face.
“So you do intend on missing the meeting?.” Cal snarls, and a muscle ticks in my temple as I shove him back down.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” Lyra twists against my hold, but I just shift my knee higher between her thighs, pinning her more securely, then press my mouth against her ear and drop my voice to a whisper.
“Well, I’m not going to yield.”
For half a heartbeat, her body stills beneath me and like a bloody fool, I think I’ve won, but when I shift back her gaze drops to my mouth.
Once.
Then again.
Shit.
Heat starts building between us as I trap her there, and not just from my fire that’s still surrounding us, still blocking everyone else out.
“Lyra.” Her name comes out rough and I’m not sure if I'm warning or begging anymore. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She rocks her hips beneath me in a slow grind that tears a growl straight from my throat.
“I know you're trying to distract me.” Biting down on my lip, I force every muscle rigid because fuck me—it’s working.
And she knows it.
Her eyes darken and her mouth curves as she arches up against my hold instead of fighting it, bringing her face inches from mine.
Close enough to see her pulse at the base of her throat stuttering wildly, close enough to see every beautiful freckle scattered across her porcelain skin.
For one suspended second neither of us moves, the air between us turning so thick that I’m about to yield right then and there.
But then she tilts her head, opens her mouth, and rolls her tongue over the sweat at my neck, like some kind of feral animal that’s been caged for the last seven weeks and is just as starving as I am.
Groaning, a savage rush tears through me, strong enough to make my grip tighten around her wrists, but she doesn’t stop. Her tongue just keeps dragging higher, tracing the line of my jaw, my chin until the tip of it runs across my lips.
Holy. Fucking. God.
I should stop.
I should yield.
Walk away.
But something in me snaps.
I shove her back against the ground, my full weight pressing over hers as weeks of leashed restraint give way all at once and I crash my mouth into hers.