“The odds are steadily improving.” His low voice vibrated over her, and she squirmed.
His mouth twitched, a soft laugh falling from his lips. Thumb brushing over her ribs, he grazed the bottom of her breast, making her squirm even harder, fighting against the dark bands that held her as he wrote.
Already breathless, she murmured into the dark. “And what odds are those?”
The pen stopped.
“You naked on my desk letting me fuck you until every doubt of how I feel is forever gone from your mind and body.”
She choked, her gaze locking with his. “You could try.” Shehadn’t meant the words to be a taunt, but by the dark grin on Aidan’s face that was exactly how they’d been received.
The words had barely left her mouth when her nightgown and panties were gone. Aidan once again paused, the moonlight illuminating his skin. Down to fitted shorts, he admired her, his hand stroking over himself.
He nodded slowly, his voice deep. “I’ve never been much fortrying.”
Restraints gone, she lifted one bare shoulder in invitation, and he chuckled before stalking between her dangling legs. Abruptly lifting her upright, he slid her ass to the edge of the desk.
“Last chance.” Both hands held her head now, his thumbs framing her jaw.
Distracted, she gripped the wooden desk, swaying into him and kissing his chest. “For what?”
“To keep your distance. You can walk out and go back to your silent wanting.”
The tips of her breasts scraped lightly against his bare chest, her hands moving to his back, exploring as she pressed up against him. “As if I’m the only one who’s been silently wanting.”
He lifted her chin, claiming her gaze, his voice turning smoky like his power. “I’ve bound you to me through death and realm. You spoke your promise to stand by me, and it gleams on our skin. But do you want to bemine?”
Her tongue refused to move as she stared up at him.
“I’m not a half-in sort of person, Thorn. I need to hear you say it.”
She nodded with her face in his hands. In the past, she would have found a way to twist what happened between them until she could write it off as only sex, or to flit anxiously between emotion and the physical, never allowing it to come together all at once. It was unsurprising he needed to hear her say it.
“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed. The dark music of his voice drew out shivers of need, making her want to pull him tighter against her.
Her gaze nervously fled from his. “I want?—”
“Eyes on me,” he corrected gently, and a heady heat washed over her again.
“I want to be yours,” she whispered.
A flash of a blinding, satisfied smile rewarded her, and then he moved.
Hands lost in her hair, the god of the dead kissed her mouth for the first time, his lips worshipful against hers. Her body rocked back under the weight of his touch. Relief, desire, and want all threaded together, overwhelming her as he groaned with his mouth still pressed to hers, his breath ghosting over her.
“Finally,” he exhaled. The word was only half out—likely escaped without permission—when his blue eyes brightened, the flames shuddered in the dark of the room and his mouth stole hers again.
His kiss changed then, deepening as he held her to him, lifting her until she rose to her knees on the hard wood of the desk. Bergamot and the warm scent of his skin lulled her as her head dropped back, his kisses exploring her jaw to her neck, fingers tangling in her hair before he retraced his steps to her face where he drank deeply from her mouth.
Aidan continued to taste her. Plunging into her mouth, tongue sweeping hers as she clutched him, needy in her want for more. The taste of him had her spinning, her body bending and seeking his without thought. Molten beneath his touch, she was ready when his strong fingers finally slid through her heat. Over and over, he teased her with smooth, gentle strokes that left her desperate for more. Still on her knees, her mouth parted on a heavy breath and a flush spread across her chest. Elysia clamped down on his shoulders and writhed against his fingers, chasing what she wanted. Pausing, he cupped her firmly, and she moaned at the pressure.
He kissed below her poplar-leaf-marked ear, his voice a rumble against her. “Patience. I’ve waited so long.”
Her blood sang at the yearning ache in his words and howthey flooded her with a sense of power. One arm behind her knees, he lifted her again and wordlessly sent every last item on his desk flying on a sharp crack of soot-stained shadow, leaving the desk empty but for her. The oil lamp crashed against the rug, flames spluttering as they died out, and his precious ledgers lay useless and stained from dirty oil.
Sprawled out on his desk, naked with her hair fanned out around her, her pulse thumped in her throat as he finally dropped the last of his clothing to the floor. She swallowed, her mouth going dry as he stood over her.
Moonlight cast in through the window, catching every lean, sculpted line and scar of the death god before her.
