And I want something from him, though I can’t tell if I only crave the comfort of closeness or if I’m searching for something more.
He trails his fingertips along my jaw. “It would be best if you didn’t look at me like that.”
I lean closer and lick my lips. “Like what?”
He gives me a piercing look. “Like you want me to kiss you. Because I will.”
Softly, I rub my thumb over his healed lip. He slides his hand into my hair, fisting the roots, a pleasant invitation shining in his eyes.
Desire tumbles down my spine and pools low in my belly when he tightens his grip.
I don’t move. I just hold his stare, a challenge that I hope I’m up for. I’m fully aware that I’m testing any resolve either of us might’ve erected concerning one another, but the barriers I’ve assembled in defense of hatred no longer seem necessary when it comes to Alexus Thibault.
I know what I want, even if I shouldn’t want it.
Even if I’ll regret it later.
And right now, I want his mouth on mine—delirious from exhaustion or not. I want to forget. To find some sort of peace—even if only for a little while.
Alexus slides his hand down my side to the back of my knee. In one swift movement, he drags me onto him, my legs straddling his hips. He removes the dagger and belt from my thigh, tossing them aside, and tips the hood of his cloak from my head, untying the laces at my throat. His fingertips forge a fiery path across my collarbone, over my shoulder.
When the cloak falls away, leaving me sitting in leathers and the remains of my dress, a chill courses over me. The air is a mixture of the surrounding cold, the blazing heat of our fire, and the warm comfort of a meadow. It makes my skin feel alive and sensitive, hyper-aware of his every subtle touch.
With his torso still bared to my eye and his hands resting on my hips, Alexus stares up at me like I’m some kind of enchantment. Hesitation dances in his gaze too, and I’m not sure why.
“You are so tempting,” he says. “But you need to know something.” He takes my hand, presses it to his chest. “There is darkness inside me, Raina. Darkness you will not like.”
I trail my palm over the curve of thick muscle, across his hard nipple, down his stomach, making him flinch again.
“There is darkness inside me too,” I sign. “Perhaps our darknesses can be friends.”
He does have darkness. I’ve seen it, like I’m seeing it now, moving like a phantom behind his eyes. I heard the wraith too. I know Alexus has secrets.
And I don’t care. More than anything, I want him to touch me, and when he finally does—when he runs those deadly hands up my thighs, to my waist, traveling along my ribs to my breasts—the pressure of his grip sends burning desire tearing through my blood.
Alexus folds his arm around me and draws me down, wrapping his fist in my hair again. I plant my hands on the log behind him, but he tugs me closer, until there’s no space between us. I can feel every rigid inch of him, and he feels divine. It’s a heady moment, making me long for so much more than a kiss.
He brushes his mouth against mine, a whisper-kiss, the contact so gentle yet so painfully forbidden. If only by me. Still, I quiver down to my toes when his lips ghost across mine, like he’s savoring every curve, preparing to devour.
He meets my eyes again, another flash of hesitance, of too much thought, but the battle waged in his mind ends, and he truly kisses me.
I don’t expect the raw hunger that ignites at the sweet taste of him, but in the time it takes my heart to flutter, I sink my hands into his dark hair, and it’s me who’s devouring. I can’t think around anything other than this yearning inside me, this rush, the way his heat and hardness tempt me beyond all rationalization, the way his tongue sliding against mine makes me gasp.
I was supposed to kidnap him, not kiss him. Not want him so badly I can barely breathe.
We become a tangle of roaming hands and kisses, any indecision about the situation gone. I tug Alexus’s shirt over his head and marvel at the sight of him. Those broad, round shoulders and arms that could hold a woman for days. Then I dip my mouth to his chest, dragging my teeth over his firm, scarred flesh in a soft bite. He groans, that sound of ecstasy that sets fire to my senses.
I’ve hated being helpless these last days, feeling powerless.
But right now, I feel like a god.
Skillfully, he unthreads the laces at my back, one by one, kissing me all the while until the garment loosens. I sit up, strip free of the bodice and my thin undergarment, and toss them both aside. My witch’s marks glow in the firelight, shades of gold, crimson, violet, and silver.
Alexus rests his hands at my waist, stopping me from returning to him. He skims his warm palms over my naked skin, admiring my marks, my curves, every dip and hollow. My body responds, tender parts of me tightening, aching, throbbing, so keenly aware of his eyes on me, his hands learning what takes my breath.
He’s breathing so hard, his lips slightly swollen, his hair mussed. It’s a lovely sight that I tell myself only makes me swoon because I need relief only he can give. This has nothing to do with anything more than that. Nothing to do with my heart.
Nothing at all.
“Gods, Raina.” He closes his hand over my breast in a possessive grasp. “I want you.”
I don’t intend to make him wait.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man—been with Finn—but instinct becomes my guiding light. I lean down, pressing my naked body against Alexus’s bare chest, and trail my tongue along the column of his throat. In response, he whispers my name, a choked, desperate sound, like he can’t take much more when we’ve only just begun.
I love the way my name sounds falling from his lips. I want to make him say it a hundred times more. I want him to beg me to kiss him, beg me to take him, beg me to never stop.
He grazes his rough palms over my shoulders, curves those long fingers around my ribs, and I arch against him, my skin tingling when his touch slides down my back and over my hips.
Digging his fingers into my backside, he presses all that hardness between my legs, making me shiver, making me want.
This is desperation, desire so enthralling that I roll my hips over and over, demanding and greedy, feeling like I might die if I don’t feel him inside me soon.
He slips his hand between us, tugging at the ties of my trousers. Breaking our kiss, I lift my hips for him, and he slides his hand inside the leathers.
I close my eyes on a gasp, letting him touch me where I want more of him. He’s deft with that hand, and in seconds, I’m climbing toward the point of no return.
This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be the Witch Collector drawing such damp heat from my body, making my mind numb to anything but the ache he’s stoking like a fire. That thought evaporates as he presses his teeth into my shoulder, returning my soft bite from earlier, and dips his hungry mouth to my breast. I move against his touch, chasing the promise that lives in the feverish swirl of his tongue, the rough tip of his finger.