Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(41)

To have this with him, after all this time was … indescribable.

But to have missed out on this for so long was … unbearable.

The last episode of the show we were watching ended and Arthur turned his green eyes on mine. The strain hadn’t left and he looked hollow almost—empty from the vibrancy I was used to.

He looks lost.

Cupping his cheek, I willed my panic to remain hidden. If he wanted to talk to me about his symptoms, then he would. I couldn’t force him. I didn’t want to make him face things he might not be ready to face. But at the same time, it was all I could think about.

The longer we stared, the more lust thickened. My nipples hardened and his arms bunched on top of the sheet.

My fingers moved from his cheeks to his lips. His mouth parted, eyes shadowing from bright green to forest. I leaned in to kiss him. Eager for his taste. Desperate to connect.

Then … his stomach rumbled.

Loudly.

The noise turned a sexually charged moment into a comedic one.

I laughed.

Dropping my hand from his face to his stomach, I rubbed his sculptured abs. “Hungry?”

He smirked, looking younger than his years and nowhere near as scary as he did in leather and windswept dust. His perfect teeth were sharp and dangerous against his tanned face. “I’ve been hungry for the past five hours.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I didn’t want to get out of bed again.” His leg rubbed against mine. “I enjoyed having you in my arms too much.”

My heart melted. “And you were willing to suffer starvation for me?”

His gaze turned serious. “I’d be willing to suffer anything for you, Buttercup. I thought you knew that by now?”

I gasped.

His fingers trailed down my side, then skated across my chest. “I’m hungry for other things, too.” He rolled my nipple with delicious pressure.

My head fell back onto the pillow, delivering myself into his control. The ravenous need to have him inside me overrode hunger for physical food.

I groaned as he scooted down the bed and sucked the same nipple into his mouth. Clutching his head to my chest, I tangled my fingers into his hair. “Um … you can eat me. I don’t mind.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling my cleavage. “If I eat you, you’d be gone.”

I pulled on his hair. “But if you eat me, then I become you.”

He paused. Climbing my body again, he captured my chin, holding me firm. “You are me. And I am you. We might have separate thoughts and minds, Buttercup, but we have the same heart and soul.”

I couldn’t speak.

How could he go from violence and bloodshed to sprouting such tender, heartfelt things? He was the perfect man—prepared to do anything to protect me, while not afraid to be soft when it mattered.

Pushing at the sheet covering us, I glanced at his rapidly hardening erection.

We’d been naked all day. A fort of blankets protecting us from what’d happened and what was to come. I loved the sensation of being adrift in our own world.

His eyes burned mine. “You’re looking at me as if you would happily devour every inch of my body.”

I smiled wickedly. “Depends how many inches of you there were.”

His eyes widened, then hooded with need. “Goddammit, you tempt me.”

“If I tempt you, then don’t resist me.” I reached for his cock, ignoring food in favor of having him.

But I never managed to grab him.

He moved too swiftly. Pushing my shoulders, he pinned me to the bed and pecked a kiss on the tip of my nose. “That’s not yours to play with. Not yet, at least.”

I stuck out my bottom lip. “It is mine. Just like everything of me is yours.”

His eyes wandered down my front. He swallowed a groan. “You’re right, but I need to eat. I need energy so I can give you what you deserve.”

I love his train of thought.

His denial heated my blood until I was lava and fire. “And what do I deserve?”

His breath caught as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, that sounded sexy.”

I arched upward as much as I could—submitting myself to a kiss—or whatever else he wanted to give me. The sheets tantalized my flesh. The warm air licked around my nipples. Everything was an aphrodisiac.

Suddenly, he growled and rolled away.

What the—

Climbing off the bed, his legs planted wide on the floor. My eyes trailed to his heavy cock as he scooped a pair of discarded black boxer briefs from the end of the bed and stepped into them. His muscles flexed and bowed, looking part fantasy, part illusion. Nobody should be that divine. Nobody could be that divine and be mine.

He looked like a demi-god ready to carry me off into the heavens only to corrupt me with decadent sin.

“You can’t stand there looking like that and expect me to behave,” I whispered, rubbing my thighs together.

Leaning down, he captured my wrist and pulled me toward the edge of the bed. Lifting me from the mattress, he plopped me onto my feet, then wrapped me in the tightest embrace. “Never stop being you, Buttercup. Never stop being bold or bossy or brave.”

The swift change from erotic to endearing left me stranded and swimming to catch up. My fingers latched on to his narrow hips, stroking the cotton of his underwear. “I’m bossy?”