Braving the Elements (Darkness #2)(24)

“Do…”

I stopped with that one word. You couldn’t very well ask the guy if he missed other people, too. If this was limited to me, and by it being limited to me, if it meant he viewed me with more importance than a mere subject. How lame would that sound?

His eyebrows quirked, wanting me to finish.

“Um.” Suddenly, that weird thing deep inside that felt his pull had to know if he had any semblance of feelings for me. If he, perhaps, felt even a fraction for me like what I felt for him.

“Hmm.” But how to phrase it.

Big breath.

“Is, um, that normal? Wanting—I mean, you know, missing a…minion.

Or whatever?”

I was a dynamite linguist.

A smile flickered. “Open the link.”

With magic already occupying my body like blood, I merely had to swish away the muffle on our connection, and there he was, pouring into me. His impassive face contrasted the emotions warring in his body. Warmth glowed through him, tingly anticipation at being in the same room with me, and the desire to stay in my presence. Arousal flamed, but was overshadowed by his belief in me; in his confidence that I was doing well, and would continue to make him proud. He was showing how much he supported me, and what it meant to sit calmly, relaxed, in the same room without worry of his status or position. With me, he got to be a man, not a leader.

He liked me!

God, I was a dumb girl, but I could barely talk! The electricity in my body surged to enormous heights. It suddenly occurred to me that we were alone, in a secret place that no one else would find, at the end of the night.

The way he was looking at me, too, implied his willingness to whatever I wanted; going our separate ways, talking, snuggling, other…things.

My heart started hammering, suddenly nervous.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispered. His smile flickered. “I am at your mercy.”

“Does, ah…” I cleared my throat, sweat coating my forehead. “Does anyone know you’re in here?” The tightness in my groin was reaching up through my body and squeezing my brain.

“No one. Everyone thinks I’ve turned in except for Charles. There’s no way I can taint your reputation from this meeting.”

I stared at him for a second, wondering if he knew what I was asking.

Wondering if I would finally get to do this; to satisfy this soul clenching need. Being bold, I rose slowly, my desired solitude long forgotten. His eyes watched me aloofly, waiting to see what I would do. Watching, completely still, as I crossed the four feet between us. Standing beside his legs, my knees butting against the couch, I hesitated.

Now what?

Still he waited, fire in his eyes, heat pumping through the link. He wanted me. I wanted him.

Oh good god I was nervous.

With a deep breath, I eased a leg over his lap, settling myself with my groin over his, his hardness pushing against me. His hands gripped my legs as his face fell. The link soaked through with guilt.

“Wait, Sasha, I have to tell you something.” His eyes lost some of their passion. “The night I gave you blood—the second time—I…invaded your personal space.”

I leaned closer, heat infusing the space between our mouths. “Mm.”

“I had you drink from my neck, but then you got aroused, and…” He cut off, his lips squeezing together in a hard line. Releasing a breath, he finished.

“I took advantage of you.”

I blinked. His expression held remorse to accentuate the guilt from the link.

“It wasn’t a dream,” I whispered, strangely confused. That was why I only remembered glimpses of his face; why most of the experience was sensations. Exquisite, earth moving sensations.

“I should be pissed off, and if I was still with Jared, I would be. But…I remember asking for more. Did you not hear that? Was that not out loud?”

“I did, but you were on your death bed. It was beyond stupid. And irresponsible. And…creepy.”

“I creeped you out?” I couldn’t help my rigidness.

He shook his head in frustration. “I made love to a sleeping girl with a fever without first getting her permission. No, you weren’t the creepy one.”

I smiled away my insecurity, running my fingers along his raven stubble.

Maybe it was creepy, but I didn’t care. I remembered the feelings—more than just physical. I remembered the closeness that I thought could only be a dream since it felt so completely natural. I wanted that again.

His face lost expression immediately, his hands tightening on my hips, as I moved back in, my breath ruffling his hair. My lips glanced his, then more pressure. I licked his bottom lip, asking admittance. He opened to me, licking my open mouth, teasing, chasing my tongue with his.

I slid my hands up his muscular arms, feeling the strength in his biceps and the brawn of his shoulders, before letting my palm settle at the edge of his jaw.

I backed off enough to speak, “Does it feel good when someone takes your blood? I’ve often heard Charles mention it as the most intimate of things. He doesn’t do it lightly.”

“Yes,” he whispered. His hands felt around my body to cup my butt.

“Would you like to take more of mine?”

“I was thinking the opposite. Maybe you should take mine this time?

Even the score. I want to feel what it’s like.”