I flick my gaze up, admiring him, even though I’ve already fawned over his body plenty in the short time we’ve known each other. At my mercy, he’s even more magnificent. Shadows from the fire crawl over his skin, catching on the ridges of muscle and the dark lines of ink.
The horse across his ribs turns its head, flanks quivering as if it knows what’s happening and can’t quite bear to watch.
Whoa.
Am I losing my mind?
I freeze, my eyes locked on the shifting ink. The chain coiled around his bicep tightens, the links flexing like muscle before easing again.
Declan’s fingers slide into my hair, sweeping it away from my face.
“Emery?” His voice is low with concern. “You okay?”
I take my mouth off of him but keep stroking him with my hand.
“Your tattoos move,” I say. “I swear the horse turned away from us.”
His body stills, his hands still holding my hair.
“Yeah,” he says finally, his voice rough and solemn. “Sometimes they do that.”
The answer freezes me for half a heartbeat.
“If it freaks you out, we can stop. I get it.” He closes his hand over mine—not to pull me away but giving me the option. The tension in his shoulders says he’s sincere. “We can stop right now.”
That’s thelastthing I want. Unable to articulate how much I want him, I stick out my tongue and wiggle it against the tip again.
He groans and tugs my hair. “Emery.” He drags my name out like a warning as I suck him into my mouth, pausing when the barbells click against my teeth. “I’m serious.”
I release him with a soft pop of my mouth and smile up at him. “Glad we’re on the same page there.”
Curious, I scoot back and kneel up on the mattress, bracing my hands against his chest, careful not to directly touch his tattoos. “I have a question, though.”
The poor guy’s standing there with his gravity-defying, bejeweled hard-on aimed straight at me, and here I am ruining the moment with a Q-and-A session?
“What’s that?” he asks with the patience of a gladiator.
I lift my arm, the green light rippling over my skin. “Am I going to end up…marked…um,everywhere?”
He exhales hard but meets my eyes without flinching. “Honestly? I don’t know for sure.”
I blow out a breath, appreciating his honesty. He could’ve lied, but that’s not the Declan I’ve gotten to know. Lying and manipulation aren’t his style.
I take in the gorgeous lines of his body and his intricate, sometimes mind-bending artwork. The piercings my lady bits are demanding we vigorously investigate. We fooled around last night and while the mark climbed up my arm, it didn’t appear on any other places where we touched.
I swallow hard. He’s silent. Completely in control as he waits formeto make the decision. He doesn’t try to convince or talk me into anything.
The choice is all mine.
Not being with him feels like a mistake future me will regret a whole lot more than if I end up branded in new locations.
“I want you,” I whisper.
He presses his palms to my cheeks and leans down, brushing a kiss over my lips. Soft at first, then harder and more demanding. I angle my head, desperate for more.
Warmth and desire like I’ve never experienced rushes through my limbs, arrowing straight between my thighs.
Declan breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my ear. “You sure?” His low rumbling voice is laced with so much restraint it makes my need for him even sharper.
