My hips are moving almost involuntarily, rolling against him– seeking pressure, friction, anything he can give me, but it’s not enough. I want more. Ineedmore.
When I pull away from him to tell him so, we’re both breathless, our chests heaving in sync, mouths parted as we drag in air. My thumb moves to stroke his swollen lips, and he nips at it playfully before soothing the sting with a kiss.
And then I look him straight in his beautiful sea glass eyes and mutter a single word– one syllable which will entirely change the trajectory of the night.
‘Bed.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
BRAM
She does not need to ask me twice.
I’m so turned on I can barely think, but my baser instincts know what to do. I sweep Lucy off the sofa and head up the spiral staircase with her in my arms, leaving our cooling mugs of tea forgotten, surrounded by piles of cast-off clothes.
I don’t ever remember feeling like this before. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a lot of sex, and some of it has been pretty great, but everything about this is different. Otherworldly, just like her.
When I lay her down on the bed, I swear to God I can hear angels singing.
I freeze for a moment, torn between giving in to the desperate pleas of my body and savouring this perfect moment. Who knows if we’ll ever get another one like it.
It’s not lost on me that this is our last night in the annexe, and I can’t say for certain that when she gets on that train tomorrow it won’t be the last time I ever see her. Right now there’s only us, but what about when there isn’t? When she’sback to her life of picture-perfect mortal men? Who’s to say she’ll even want someone like me?
But she wants me now.
I can see it in the part of her lips– the way her thighs press together as she looks up at me. I can feel it in the way that she kisses me, like she’s giving me a part of herself. And maybe it is only for tonight, but I’ll take it. I’ll take anything she offers me.
My fingers fumble with the buttons of her skirt, the soft denim falling off her like petals, and when I reach to hook my thumbs in the waistband of her tights she lifts her hips to help me. I do away with both, and she clambers higher on the bed, making room for me.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
I’m entirely unsurprised that her underwear is pastel-coloured– pale green lace with accents of pink satin and the tiniest flower, which nestles between the cups of her bra. It suits her perfectly, soft colour cutting across the creamy expanse of her skin. I falter a moment before I climb onto the bed next to her, taking in the whole scene like it’s a work of art: the soft slope of her hips, the halo of blonde hair I’ve tugged loose, her teeth dimpling the pink skin of her lips.
When I finally crawl over her, those lips are the first things I kiss, before I drag my mouth lower, down her neck and around the curve of her jaw. I delight in the hum of her breathing as my lips graze her sternum, the small whimpers that escape her as my teeth nip at her skin, the way that her belly tenses as I kiss my way down it.
But the sound she makes when my mouth finds the heat of her through that delicate lace is like no music I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s like a connection– a burst of electricity straight through my body– which only builds in layers with the scent of her, the knot of her fingers in my hair, the way she moves to help me slip her underwear off before I bury my face in her. It’sintoxicating, all-consuming in such a way that by the time she cries out with her climax, I’m a lost cause.
This woman is like nothing I’ve ever known. I need to be inside her.
She pulls me back up to her and kisses me deeply, a groan low in her throat which never quite makes it out. I feel warm hands at my waistband, clumsy with pleasure, trying to unbutton with such desperation that it makes me laugh into her mouth when she makes exactly no progress.
‘Skinny jeans,’ I mutter after a moment, lust grating at my voice. ‘I’ll take them off, but you can’t watch or you’ll be immediately turned off.’
She doesn’t listen.
Her eyes don’t leave me the entire time I’m wrestling the goddamn things down my legs and over my ankles. She watches the whole ridiculous hop I do when the hem of my left leg catches on my heel, and when I finally stand back up, clad in only my boxers– black, of course– the burn of heat in her eyes seems only to have intensified.
‘Well,’ she says, the scratch in her voice sending shivers through me. ‘Thatwas a lie.’
And then she reaches around to her back and unclips her bra in one smooth move, throwing it aside without a single ounce of shame.
My skin’s on fire. It’s almost like I’ve never seen a naked woman before in my life. In my defence, I’ve definitely never seen one so perfect as the goddess in front of me. She’s all creamy skin and soft curves, blue eyes which have darkened with her arousal, and that perfect pink mouth, which is much too polite to ask for what she wants.
Not that she needs to ask, of course– it’s written all over her body. But God do I want to hear her say it.
‘Bram,’ she grits out, but nothing follows it– just the warmth of her breath on my skin and the cascade of goosebumps it sends down my sides. I didn’t even know that was a thing that could still happen. It’s like there are certain feelings that take me closer to being human. Certain feelings my body has not forgotten.
We’re a foot apart, if that, but I make no move to reach for her. I don’t want to rush this.