“I… oh,” she said.
What else could she say?
He growled her name and added, “You’re beautiful.”
“Me?” Octavia blinked up at the witch. “You’re the one who’s beautiful.”
There was no doubt in her mind that he was goddess-blessed.
The hand that was laced through hers lifted, cupping her cheek instead. The red marks from the prohiberis were still there, but he was no longer bleeding, and Octavia was inclined to believe the witch when he said they didn’t hurt.
“When you say things like that, Octavia, it makes it very hard to…” His brows knit together, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something else. Silence stretched between them before he shook his head. “All the werewolves were watching you tonight.”
She tilted her head. “Yes, because we’re their prisoners.”
She hadn’t forgotten that crucial fact. This guesthouse was a step up from the cages, but it was still a prison.
Flynn shook his head. “No. Because you draw everyone’s attention like a moth to a flame.”
Octavia’s mouth fell open. She didn’t have a chance to say anything because Flynn bent, kissing her again. His lips were still locked on hers as he nudged her towards the bed. Not that it was difficult—the room boasted little else.
The back of her legs hit the mattress, and she gasped, “Flynn, wait.”
Instantly, he broke away. She could still feel everything through the thin barrier of their clothes. Her chest heaved in time with his. Her heart pounded, and though faint tinges of pain ran from her ankle up through her leg, it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as it should have.
“Yes?” His eyes searched hers. “What do you want, Octavia?”
The question brought her pause. On one hand, she wanted him. She’d felt that way since the moment they met. On the other hand, she hadn’t forgotten the way they’d met. She’d found him rummaging through her bag.
Octavia might’ve found Flynn extremely attractive, but she wasn’t a complete idiot. Red flags abounded around him.
“I want you,” she admitted. The witch growled, but she put her left hand on his chest. “I’m just worried this is moving a little fast.”
Even having acknowledged that this was probably a bad decision, Octavia was moments away from letting Flynn ravage her. What did that say about the dragon shifter? She wasn’t sure if she was ready to unpack that.
Flynn hitched a breath. “What if we took sex off the table?”
Octavia’s brows jumped to her hairline. That was rather presumptive of him. “Who says it’s on the table?”
His gaze dropped pointedly to her right hand, which was still feeling him intimately.
Blood rushed to Octavia’s cheeks, and she yanked back her arm. “Oh, my gods. I just… you were… it’s very nice,” she finished lamely.
Was there a hole nearby? Octavia wanted to crawl into it and never, ever, ever come out again. There would never be a more perfect moment for the sky to fall.
A booming chuckle burst from Flynn’s chest and filled the small room. “Thank you.”
Octavia’s chest burned, and drawing breath was nearly impossible. She was fairly certain she’d never been so embarrassed in her entire life. How had she not realized she was feeling him up?
The dragon shifter moved, hoping to turn around, but in her haste, she forgot about the bed behind her. Octavia’s foot caughton the edge of the navy bedspread. Instead of moving away like she’d intended, she twisted her foot. Her bad one.
“Ow!” she cried out. Losing her balance, she slammed all her weight down on her bad leg. A mangled groan escaped her, and she cursed. Unsurprisingly, the foul language didn’t ease the pain.
“Shit.” Flynn reached for her. “What’s wrong? Is it your foot?”
“Yes,” Octavia forced the word through her clenched jaw and pointed at the offending appendage.
Flynn’s brows creased. “Can I take a look?”