Chapter 9 #3
And I didn’t think about moving it. Didn’t picture it rolling—didn’t push thought toward it. I just felt it—the weight of it, the way it rested against the wood. I whispered something quieter than a thought—something more like a suggestion. Better to move.
The lumpy shell rolled.
One inch. Maybe two. Enough to catch the light differently, to come to rest against the edge of my wine glass with a faint, dry click.
I stared at it. My breath came faster, higher up my chest. Lift. The walnut did. “Yes.”
Gabriel picked up the bottle and poured me another glass of the ambervale.
Desire surged, seeking escape. “Where are we going tonight? You didn’t answer earlier.”
“Going? Nowhere tonight.”
“Oh.” The walnut clattered to the wood.
He swirled his glass, watching me beneath dark lashes. “Are you disappointed that we won’t be furthering your brother’s case or that you won’t get to kiss me?”
I swallowed and swirled my own. “That we won’t be furthering my brother’s case. Don’t be silly.”
“You realize you can kiss me anytime.”
I swirled faster. “Don’t be silly.”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Why would I kiss you? Why would you want that?”
“You don’t find it pleasurable?”
“Yes. No!” Like a child’s string, tied in knots and being pulled willy-nilly.
“You have me confused. Which is it?”
“Kissing is fine. Not too wet or slimy.”
“Mmm. Sometimes wet is excellent. Slimy, though, I’ll give you that. I’m happy that our kisses haven’t been too slimy for you.”
My cheeks grew hot, both at the subject and gentle teasing—and still flush with the success I didn’t know how to process. “But they are only for show. For getting the information we need. For helping Kennen.”
“I see. So you are only interested in kissing me to help Kennen? Is that why you are so keen to go out? Because you can only kiss me if it’s in the line of furthering the case?”
“Yes! No! I just think we need more information.”
“We’ve been to the White Stag three nights this week. They are going to start thinking us regulars. And Dresden is no doubt well aware of our presence. I’m sure he has more than one informant in the pub.”
“We can go elsewhere.”
“We’ve been to every pub in the general vicinity of the murders. We’ve traipsed all over Midtown. Our clues are somewhere else for the moment. Which for some reason—” He tapped my chin. “—reminds me of a conversation we had earlier about this very thing. Funny that you seem not to recall it.”
I stubbornly refused to recall a thing. “We have missed something. Going—”
“Anywhere? The only reason you want to go traipsing anywhere tonight is so you can kiss me.”
I lifted my chin. “I do not want to kiss you.”
“Fine. Shall we go?”
I was taken aback for a second. “Go? Where?”
“You just said we have missed something. We need to revisit our haunts or go somewhere new.”
“Y-Yes.” I smoothed my hair. I didn’t want to kiss him.
“I have something to show you before we leave, though.”
His mouth met mine before I knew what was happening. A gentle pull, a soft caress. I was surprised for a second, because I didn’t want to kiss him.
I melted into his body and called myself ten kinds of fool.
It was a new type of kiss. Exploring and questioning. It wasn’t instructional, or claiming, or for show. It asked a question. And I wasn’t sure of the response.
So I returned the kiss in the same way. Exploring and questioning. What did he want from me? What type of game were we playing? And did I care? Or was I so caught up in playing too that I wasn’t thinking of the future?
My future was muddled and dark. Like the sky before a storm. I wasn’t sure what it would look like come morning. Or if I would still be standing. But this was my chance to taste and explore. To be in control of my choices, even if for a small amount of time.
His lips ran down my chin. Down my throat.
He’d discovered a weak spot at my pulse and had been exploiting it all week.
His mouth captured the spot and I arched against him, the air escaping my lungs.
He pressed me against the table and lifted me so I was sitting on the edge.
Both hands reached into my hair and he drew me forth to kiss me again.
His legs nudged between mine and he brushed against the spot where the heat always traveled.
His hands moved down my arms and wrapped around my knees, tugging me closer and wrapping my legs around his waist. It brought us flush together and inflamed the aching.
“Do you still wish to leave, Marietta?”
He rocked into me and pleasure jolted up my spine.
“No,” I moaned as his lips found the spot on my neck again.
“You have this lovely dress on, though.” His breath whispered across my neck. “We could travel to some pub and I could devour you in front of the masses. It could be part of the disguise. You wouldn’t have to choose a thing. You wouldn’t have to say that you want this.”
His hand moved up my thigh. “Wouldn’t have to be in control.”
His fingers moved over my hip and waist and under my arm. “You could pretend that this is all happening because you are unsure of what to do. That you are martyred for the cause.”
His thumb pressed against my breast and made a deep circle around my nipple. The heat rushed through my body, spreading.
“But I would know that you really wanted this. To feel your back pressed against this table. For me to bend your knees and bury myself in your heat. To see what happens when your magic mixes with mine.”
He didn’t allow me to speak, taking my mouth in another kiss, this one drugging and dominant. His words painted pictures in my head. Things I’d thought of continuously this past week.
“I think you would like being taken, Marietta. And I would more than enjoy taking you.”
I wasn’t sure being taken sounded pleasant. But then again anything Gabriel did to me ended up being pleasant, even if it was preceded by taunting words or challenge.
“Would you like being made love to on a table? Perhaps not the first time. But after we get that pesky little problem out of the way, shall we try it here?”
Pesky little problem. As if my virginity, prized in the magic world for the rituals it could be used for, was little more than an annoyance. Then again, my lack of a virginal state wasn’t likely to be an issue these days.
He was dangerous and arrogant, but he was also a protector. Oh, he would undoubtedly leave me at the end of an affair and send me on my way, but intuitively I didn’t think he would hurt me. As long as I didn’t expect anything more. Or, heaven forbid, fall in love with him.
“Should I take your silence as assent?” He kissed me, lingering on my lower lip and pulling it between his before releasing it with a pop. “I won’t, you know,” he said, voice low and hot. “You’ll have to vocalize your desire. Just once, and I’ll do the rest.”
My head dipped back as he kissed along my neck. Devilish kisses, seductive words.
He leaned back and looked at me with his beguiling eyes.
“You want to learn the art. I can see it in your eyes. Every time I kiss you, I can see it burning beneath your skin. You hide all that passion behind the prickers you wear so proudly. It makes it all the more of a challenge to uncover your soft, velvet center.”
He caressed my breast again, fingers pulling and lifting to the peak. My head dipped farther as the muscles in my neck gave way. “And I will teach you all you wish to know.”
“Do you do this to everyone?” I whispered, eyes hazed.
He stiffened, then immediately resumed his ministrations. “No. You aren’t the only one who wears your prickers proudly.”
“Why me?” I forced my neck upright.
“Because I want to bury myself in you,” he whispered against my exposed throat, fingers lazily circling. “To unfold your magic and spread it with mine. Tell me yes, and I will continue. Tell me no, and I will withdraw.”
Withdraw? I wanted to learn everything. Wanted this for my own. Never had I felt this way about a man, and such a man as this…one who seemed to know my body and magic better than I did…
“What is your pleasure, Marietta?”
“Yes.” The choice was very simple in the end.
His eyes were fierce and triumphant.
He led me to his room and laid me on the coverlet. My skin was on fire but my brain turned frozen and panicky.
He touched my cheek. “Remember what I said about kissing? About how to respond and feel the response given back?”
He kissed me gently, and I kissed him back, pushing my nervousness into the response, trying to overcome it with intensity. The feedback became stronger as my fierce kisses turned into more demanding ones from him.
His fingers slowly worked at the fastenings on my dress, the latches of my stays. Freeing my breasts, loosening all the constraints on my body.
He pulled away slowly, softly kissing my lips. Untied, unlatched, and free, only my chemise remained. He tugged me upright and shimmied the material up and over my head.
I immediately crossed my arms to hide my nakedness.
A perfect specimen of male beauty sat in front of me, while I, decidedly imperfect, was exposed before him.
He raised a brow at my action and tugged one crossed arm down. It immediately rose again. I grabbed for my undergarment.
“What are you doing, Marietta?”
“I—I’ve changed my mind.”
He stopped me from putting it back on. “Because you are truly having second thoughts, or because you dislike your body?”
My chin lifted. “What difference does it make?”
“A great deal of difference.” He tugged my arm and the garment free.
“You are skin and bones, it’s true. Nothing that a few more weeks of regular food won’t cure.
But that also doesn’t matter. You could stay this skinny or be three times your weight and what matters is the spark.
How you respond. The passion you allow to be unleashed. ”
He stroked my arm. I shivered.