“Thank you.” My stomach quivered. Fluttered.
Cheriour reached out, trailing his rough fingers over my cheek. “I don’t understand the appeal of this.” He brushed the backside of his knuckles over my arrow industrial earring.
“It’s cool.That’sthe appeal.”
“But I do like this.” He dropped his hand to my left arm, fingers rolling up my sleeve, exposing part of my tattoo. “I don’t understand the images,” he trailed his thumb overIron Man’shelmet, “but I like the colors against your skin.”
“Yeah, well, I’m glad I have it. I miss movies. And it sucks that you guys don’t knowanythingabout these characters, or—ummm…”
Without warning, Cheriour leaned in and brushed his mouth against mine. It was a maddeningly soft kiss. Barely more than a peck. But…oh my God,yes!
His fingers were feather-light as they stroked my cheeks, my hair, the sides of my neck, my spine—
I made a (slightly mortifying) gasping noise.
Back rubs had always,always,been a weird, non-sexual G-spot for me. I was kinda ticklish there (especially along my spine) so having it caressed made my muscles flutter and left a littlewhooshsensation in my stomach. I freakinglovedit. And once Cheriour realized this was my erogenous zone, he didn’t let up. His fingers pressed and stroked and scratched, forcing me to arch into him as my body went haywire.
I dug my hands into him too. My left wrapped around the back of his neck, nails grazing his scalp. I smiled when he shivered. The other hand I kept on his face, tracing along his high cheekbones, carding through his beard, circling his ears, cupping his jaw…
“Hmmm…” A shudder ripped through him as a strangled sound escaped his mouth.
Whoomp-Whomp, my heart stuttered.
I’d grabbed a proverbial live wire with my bare hands. My belly quivered; my hands jittered. Cheriour was so damn responsive. So wriggly. So easy to make shudder. I wanted to see what he’d do when I put my mouth and hands on other parts of his body.
The screech made us both jump.
Abby Normal strolled up to the fence and shoved the pig carcass through the slats. A carcass she’d mauled while Cheriour and I were kissing. The pig was in six big, meaty, bloody chunks.
She flattened her ears at me and turned away again.
“You cock-blocking bitch,” I murmured.
But the laugh that came out of Cheriour—even if it was cut a little short by a hiss of pain—was so fuckingperfect:deep, breathy, and masculine. The kind of laugh you could listen to over and over and over again.
I wassofucked.
* * *
The thing about kissing?It was an addiction. Something about theswoop-swoopsensation that left me dizzy for more, or the taste of another person that left my insides knotted and gnawing.
When we walked back from Abby Normal’s paddock (after Cheriour arranged for a plump, live goat to be served as her dinner), I couldn’t stop myself. I jogged to Cheriour’s side and kissed him again.
I stole another kiss inside the castle.
He stole one in the stairway.
And another in the hallway.
And my lips were still locked on his, even as we entered his bedroom. Where I should’ve unglued myself and exited stage right.
Because, first of all, the dude was barely back from the dead. Second…his room was majorick. And with the way he’d started kissing me back; still gentle, still slow, but with a firmness he hadn’t had before…it seemed kinda inevitable we were gonna doickthings in hisickroom.
But I hadsomerestraint left. Not much, but enough to steer me away from the bed, which would’ve been way too tempting (despite the grimy sheets).
I backed against the wall, cursing when I rolled my ankle over some discarded object on the floor, and coaxed Cheriour to lean against me. He dropped his brow to mine, letting his lips touch the tip of my nose, and rested a hand on my hip, his fingers kneading the top of my ass.
Slowly, carefully, I ran my hand over his chest.
