She gasps as I carve the last stroke deeper before pulling the blade away. I rest the knife on the nearby windowsill, then cradle her, my upper arm curving along her spine as I tilt her back, getting my taste of her sweet, sweet nectar before I crush her against my chest, against my wound, the blood from each mingling as I drive hard into her, propelling her towards orgasm as I pinch her clit, listening to the moans and caught breaths, tailoring the experience so her orgasm hits a split second before my own.
Still mindful of her head, I lay her sideways on the bed, leaning to pull up the covers before I drag her into my arms, the soft waves of afterglow still pulsing across our bodies.
The sweet smell of her sweat mixes with the tang of whiskey and the aftertaste of her blood. A delicious elixir that is solely hers. As vibrant and intoxicating as the rest of her.
George is half asleep already, tumbling into slumber like it’s a reward for a job well done. Even in sleep, her hand curves possessively over my hip, drawing me closer.
Contentment wells in my soul as I close my eyes, letting my other senses take over. Hearing the soft snorts of her deepening breaths, the rich scent of her blood, the pulse of warmth from her silken skin, and the sweet taste I lick from my finger before chasing her down the soft planes of sleep, grabbing hold of her again on the other side of that darkness.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GEORGE
A monster chasesme out of sleep, jerking me awake as the front door slams behind my dad, heading to work. My eyes fly open, muscles tensing against the arms holding me. In the dim light shining through the window, it takes me a second to recognise Lachlan, to smell his familiar scent.
When I do, I relax and his arms scoop me closer to him, the soft puffs of his sleeping breath teasing the hairs alongside my face.
A dozen different points of injury clamour for attention. My chest stings, my jaw aches, my head feels like someone stretched my scalp over a larger skull than it could fit, tight and throbbing. Sensitive even to the movement of the air.
The worst signals come from my face. A needle of pain screams from behind my eye, the swollen mass of flesh around it reacting to the tiniest change in expression. When I blink, abright light flashes in my right eye, changing colour from red to yellow to green. My lip feels like it sticks out a million miles.
I roll onto my back and Lachlan rolls with me, his lips pressing against the skin of my side as he wakes.
“My phone alarm’s about to go in a minute,” he whispers in warning, then lunges for his trousers on the floor, turning it off as the tinkling chime just starts to warm up.
He makes a low combination groan chuckle deep in his throat, a rumbling sound that rolls over me like the vibration from judder bars. “Good morning,” he says, rousing enough to plant a kiss on my right breast. “And good morning to you, too,” he adds, moving across to my left.
“Do you need to get back before anyone checks on you?” I whisper, meaning Kari.
“Nah,” he murmurs. “I’m due a sleep-in and my new favourite method of sleep is holding onto you.”
“Is that why you set your alarm for the crack of dawn?”
He gives a wide sleepy smile, perching on one elbow while he trails his fingers across my stomach, moving in smaller and smaller circles. “I do have to get to work at some stage, but I’ll put it off as long as possible.”
“You work on a Saturday?” I shouldn’t sound so surprised—I have work, too—but it doesn’t sound like the sort of thing an elite should have to face.
He wrinkles his nose, burying his face into my stomach before pulling back and answering, “Yeah. My boss is a complete arse but what’re you gonna do?”
“Get a new one?”
“Mm. Talking sedition this early in the morning, eh? You’re a dark horse.”
More like a cat. Too curious for its own good.
I settle back into the crook of his arm, feeling the rush ofpossession as I see my letters on his chest.Mine.This gorgeous hunk of man is all mine. “What jobs does your dad have lined up for you today?”
“Nothing good.”
I give him a tiny poke in the ribs. “Avoidance is a toxic trait.”
“Really?” He arches his eyebrow in the most adorable way. “I’ll have to add it to my collection.” His hand lands on my knee and starts a slow, laborious journey up to my inner thigh, tickling and teasing me all the way. “There are so many, they form an entire personality of their own.”
His fingers part me, inserting his middle digit up to the second knuckle and curling it back against my walls, sending a spike of desire straight through me.
At my gasp, his smile broadens. “Are you sure you want me to leave right away?”
“You could stay for just a few minutes,” I concede.
