Iniquitous (The Marked #3)(52)
“Please don’t push me away,” he pleaded, resting his forehead against mine. “I need you right now.” He slinked his arms around my waist and kissed me again. It was a gentle kiss—tender and soft, but it still incited a rush of heat through my body that made my knees feel like jelly.
All the bad fell away from me as his hands slipped under my sweater and then glided up my back, leaving trails of fire where his hands had been. Whatever restraint I had left snapped like a rubber band as I sank deeper into the kiss.
Without taking his mouth off mine, he grabbed my hips and lifted me up, wrapping my legs around him as though I were feather light. Our bodies molded together as he walked us blindly down the hall to his bedroom. My heart was pounding so hard, I feared I was nearing cardiac arrest territory.
“Don’t worry,” he said against my mouth as he kicked the door open behind me. “I’ll bring you back, Jemma. I’ll always be here to bring you back.”
We collapsed onto the bed together, our bodies entwined like lace. Trace repositioned himself between my legs and I hungrily squeezed my thighs against his hips, welcoming him back home. Our desire was palpable, overwhelming, and it scared the crap out of me. My mind sputtered out warnings, heeding me to slow down and think this through beyond tonight, but my body was aching for him in a way I could no longer control.
I knew this was going to wreck me, completely undo me, and I wasn’t even sure I cared anymore.
Trace hesitated, retreating slightly, but I quickly locked my arms around his neck and held him against me. He had a habit of getting into my head and letting my anxieties stop him from taking the next step—from pushing us over the edge, and all I wanted to do tonight was dive into the open air.
His lips moved down to my neck, peppering the sensitive spot below my ear with molten kisses that made my legs shake. I felt his hands near my waist again and I held my breath as he grabbed the hem of my sweater and slowly brought it up. He stopped just below my chest. Always cautious.
Always careful.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice deep and grainy and filled with need.
I didn’t trust myself not to tremble when I spoke, so I didn’t. I nodded my head up and down and then bit my lip as he pulled my sweater up over my head, tossing it behind us on the floor somewhere in the dark.
He gazed down at me for the longest moment of my life and I swore my heart came to a complete stop in my chest before exploding into overdrive.
“You’re so beautiful, Jemma.” His dimples popped as he licked his lips. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”
God, the way he was looking at me—I could spend the rest of my life searching and I’d never find another moment where I felt more beautiful and more alive than I did just then.
He lowered his mouth to mine and gently parted my lips with his. Sparks crackled around me, inside of me, shooting off electricity like a nuclear power plant as his tongue slipped inside my mouth again. I arched back, and then into him, hungry for more of him as his mouth and tongue moved on to explore the unchartered parts of my body. He touched me like he wanted to memorize me, to devour me wholly. And God, I wished he would.
He pressed himself against me, letting me feel all of him, and I gasped as he quickly slid back up and covered my mouth with his. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take of this before I unraveled into a million pieces.
“Do you want me to slow down?” he asked, breathing heavy against my lips.
“No. Keep going,” I pleaded, panting just as wildly as he was. I didn’t want him to stop—not now and not ever.
“Then I won’t,” he promised as a sexy smile curved his mouth, setting off both dimples at the same time.
And lord knew, I lived and breathed for those dimples. I tried to reach out and touch them, to kiss them, but his lips had other plans.
Sliding away again, his hands caressed my skin as his mouth trailed a row of steamy hot kisses down my bare abdomen, stopping just below my belly button. My breathing hitched as he untied the string to my jogging pants and then looked back up at me as he wet his lips, his fingers touching me experimentally—asking my permission to continue.
I was about to give it to him when his gaze shifted away from me and locked onto something just over my left shoulder. “What the—”
“What?” I turned my face to the side, but I didn’t see anything. “What is it?” I asked growing nervous as I followed his eyes over my shoulder. My entire body froze.
Holy paranormal activity!
Every single piece of furniture in the room was suspended in the air, hovering at least two feet off the ground as though the force of gravity had disappeared from the room. Everything, including the bed we were making out on.
“Oh my God!” I shrieked, covering up my chest as Trace drew back from me.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, his voice a firm whisper.
Slowly, he stepped down from the bed and straightened himself out. With his brows furrowed, he did a slow spin, taking in the strange scene around us.
“What is this? What’s going on?” I asked him, hating the fact that I wasn’t in his arms, now more than ever.
“I’m not sure. Give me your hand,” he said as he reached out to help me get down from the floating bed.
Taking his hand, I slowly lifted myself into a sitting position as I kept my free arm across my chest. The minute I was sitting, all of the furniture in the room dropped to the ground with a thud, scaring the crap out of me. Trace had already yanked me forward into his arms before I could feel the impact of the bed crashing down against the floor.