“Witchling,” he purred, and the sound of his gravelly voice made her pulse race.
She drank in the sight of his features—those high cheekbones with dark shadows beneath them, his proud nose and full mouth. She could see that he’d recovered from the spell. His face was back to its normal complexion, and the black veins beneath his eyes were gone.
She couldn’t deny that she’d missed him. They’d spent every waking moment together for a month, and after only one dayapart, she was happy to see him again. She’d never felt that with another person in her life, and frankly, it scared her.
The air crackled with their connection. He bent his head, and she didn’t hesitate, pressing her lips to his as soon as he was close enough. He tasted amazing and smelled even better, and she groaned as he deepened the kiss.
And then she took a chance. Pulling her arms out from under the blanket, she reached up and slid her fingers into his hair.
He stiffened immediately and pulled away.
“Let me,” she whispered.
He stilled, watching her with narrowed eyes, and then leaned back in. Her fingers dove into his hair, and this time, though the tension in his body was evident, he allowed her to touch him. Knowing what he fought for her made her heart swell.
He kissed her again, his dexterous tongue sliding between her parted lips. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and a low growl rumbled up from his chest.
Feeling mischievous, she stroked the silky strands back with both hands, gathered them into a bunch at the base of his neck, and fisted it loosely in one hand. She gave it a light tug. This time his growl was more of a warning. She smiled against his lips.
A second later, he snatched her wrists and pinned them down to the pillow above her head.
He pulled back. “Don’t play with me, witch.”
She smiled devilishly, her body stretched out beneath him. “But it’s so fun.”
Tingles of awareness raced over her skin, and she felt every inch of his heat pressed against her. He lowered his head until their mouths hovered inches apart. Unable to disguise her desire, a moan escaped from the back of her throat.
“Careful,” he said softly against her ear. “Or I might think you missed me.”
I did. More than I should have.Iris’s warnings suddenly echoed through her head, and she scrambled for a distraction. “Did you figure out what you needed for your spell?”
He hummed an affirmation while kissing up her neck.
She couldn’t think straight with his mouth on her. “Then are you here to take me back to your lair?”
His head shook.
She frowned. “Then why—?”
“Always with the questions, Suyin.”
“Always with the evasive answers, Murmur.”
He raised his head, eyes full of heat. And then he released his grip on her wrists and lifted off her. Just as she started to move, she felt the icy shackles of his ghosts encircle her arms and pin her back down.
She pulled on them, but they held fast. “Damn it, Murmur—”
He yanked the blankets back, exposing her body to the cool air. Her baggy T-shirt was bunched around her waist, her lower body exposed. That was what she got for sleeping half naked.
“What have we here?” His smile turned wicked.
Leaning in, he gripped the sides of her shirt and drew it over her head, tossing it away. Then he shifted down and wrapped his hands around her ankles, pushing her legs up and apart. He spread them wider and wider, until her inner thighs were stretched to their maximum.
Her labia parted, and she felt the cold air on her core. Murmur sat back, taking his sweet time enjoying the view. He was fully clothed, while she lay naked and open in the most vulnerable way.
What was it about being exposed to him that made her body light up like kindling on a bonfire? Her inner muscles clenched just from the feel of his eyes on her, and she felt wetness leaking out of her already.
His eyes were full of dark promise. “Tell me to stop if you want to, and I will.”
