"Your head is perfect." I kiss the crown of her head. "Your nose is perfect." I kiss the tip of her nose. "Your cheeks are perfect." I kiss both cheeks, unable to stop the satisfied sound that escapes when my lips make contact with her skin.
"And my mouth?" she asks softly, holding her breath.
"It's more than perfect," I answer.
She frowns at me.
"Then why won't you kiss it?"
This woman will be the death of me.
"Because I don't deserve to kiss it,slonko."
My eyes drop to her hand, where the scratch is barely visible anymore, but it might as well have a flashing beacon attached for how much it stands out to me.
"For a scratch I gave myself," she tells me, and I see flames ignite in her gaze.
I don't think she understands what it's meant for me to go these days without touching her even though every morning Iwake up pressed against her. When I'm awake, I can control my mind and impulses, but apparently, in sleep, my body seeks her out involuntarily.
"I deserve this punishment," I tell her quietly, swallowing hard.
"Except you're not just punishing yourself, Damien."
The way my mind betrayed me in that moment horrifies me to my core, because I know I could have hurt her. That thought tears my soul to pieces. No matter how many times she repeats it, no matter how much I try to convince myself I never would have done it, there's that dark shadow, that damned possibility that one day I won't be able to pull myself out of that red episode, where all I want is to let this fury that's eating me alive run free.
She takes a step and presses herself against me while her hands cup my face. When I see that she’s looking at my lips, I lean down until our mouths are a millimeter apart.
"Tell me you've missed kissing me," I murmur, and I know I look like a lovesick puppy right now.
"I've missed you, you idiot." Smiling, she steals the distance between us.
I feel days of frustration in this kiss, and without being able to stop myself, I lift her like a bride crossing the threshold. Roxanne starts laughing in my arms, and I look at her, so carefree, so relaxed, so happy. So mine.
Her eyes are loaded with warmth and affection, and this organ in my chest beats twice as fast at that realization.
Without waiting, she closes the distance between our mouths again, and this time I make sure to rediscover her mouth, biting each lip, drawing out moans when my tongue touches hers. But my erection reminds me I don't have enough time to make her scream my name.
"You're killing me," I tell her when I have to set her down.
"Not my fault you told me about that will." She laughs, and I'm glad to see she's forgotten all the nonsense those vipers planted in her head.
Because she's the most perfect woman to ever walk this earth.
We've been at Marco's house for twenty minutes, and I remember why I hate these kinds of events. People attend them. Lots of people. Lots of people I'd like to use as test subjects for my new knife set, but apparently, that would ruin the atmosphere.
Every man in this house with a working erection has stared at her back, looked at how this dress makes her ass appear rounder, noticed her breasts, which I know aren't supported by any bra.
Her hand squeezes my forearm as she whispers, "You know, if you keep glaring at every man who gets within fifteen feet of us, I have a feeling no one's going to leave any gifts for Marco."
"Good," I mutter nervously when I see a bald little man staring at her hair. "I'll be right back," I tell her, calculating how many seconds it would take me to slide a blade through his iris, because I know he's burned the image of her hair cascading down her bare back into his brain. Or maybe I'll just remove his optic nerves directly...
"No, no. I don't want to deal with a corpse in the middle of a party with two hundred guests," the woman beside me says.
She positions herself in front of me and kisses me in front of all the losers who I know are cursing me for being lucky enough to have her in my arms.
And since I still feel the sting of jealousy in my chest, I pull her to me and let my hand slide down the skin of her back.
She has a beauty mark just to the left of her spine, and her skin trembles when I trace my fingertips over it.
