His lips, teeth, and tongue found her neck with another thrust, forcing a gasp out of the depths of her lungs just as a book crashed into her shoulder.
“Shit,” she breathed, tearing her attention away to survey the pile of tomes on the floor. “Serill is going to kill us.”
Cason pulled away from her throat with a long groan, as if it was painful to no longer have his mouth on her skin. He studied her, chest rising and falling with panting breaths like he was in a daze, before glancing to the ground. “Oh… right.” His fingers twitched against her thighs, his hardness straining in the much too warm and much too tight fabric between them. “We should maybe—“
A shiver of desire ran through her. “Four hells, Cason, if you ruin this gods-damned heat by suggesting we clean these books up right now—“
That lust-darkened gaze met hers, the accompanying smile absolutely wicked. “I was going to suggest we go back to my room, but maybe I’ll drag out your squirming.” Brela’s fingers tightened against his skin to keep from shaking. He pressed his lips to hers, teeth dragging over her lower lip, left kisses along her jaw, then whispered against her. “I would like nothing more than to pleasure you on every surface in this library.” She loosed a ragged breath, much to his delight. “But you’re right. Serill would kill us.”
She swallowed. “We should hurry before someone investigates this noise.”
His returning smirk was all the promise she needed.
* * *
Brela barely remembered gettingto Cason’s room. She didn’t know if she walked, if he carried her, or some combination of the two. She didn’t even knowwherehis room was. They were too busy throwing each other against the walls every few steps, the chill of skin unbearable whenever they weren’t pressed tight.
Teeth, tongue, roving hands. A desperate attempt to touch skin without burning or ripping clothes in the middle of the empty halls.
There was only the click of the door locking, almost a distant memory, before her legs hit the bed. She was suddenly being tossed to the mattress, Cason’s legs on either side of hers and arms tracing up her sides.
The first acceptable break in their mouths crushing and burning with desire was to grip Cason’s shirt and yank it over his head.
Glorious skin and ink, ohgods. She’d seen the amount at a distance, even when she was pressed against him on the grass, but this was… it was incredible.
Cason swallowed and reached his right hand toward the fireplace that was crackling with flames and somehow radiating less heat than their bodies. It began to dull, the room fading to darkness.
“Wait,” she murmured, wrapping her hand around his left wrist to stop him.
“Brela,” he rasped, his muscles trembling as he watched where her eyes trailed. Still, he paused, frowning as she wiggled out from underneath his legs. Her hand slid from his wrist, but he only grabbed her hand, fingers still shaking. “Brela.”
She tore her gaze away from his chest, finding his brow furrowed with…oh.
He wasn’t afraid of people knowing about the symbols etched into his chest, he didn’t care what they thought, but to be exposed intimately like this?
Brela settled on her knees and chewed her lip. “Let me see it. Please,” she whispered, gently running her thumb over his hand in an effort to calm him.
The shaking didn’t stop, but his grip loosened enough for her to pull his hand toward her. The storm ink traced over his arm, heaviest around his wrist for the final graduation marks. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the black ink, leaving goosebumps on his skin wherever she trailed. Wrist, elbow, bicep, shoulder. Highlighting muscle and strength beyond belief. It wasn’t often she saw the jagged marks of lightning, and definitely not this powerful.
As she met Cason’s hesitant eyes, her hands drifted to the other arm, pulling it closer. Tight curls of sun-blessed protection ink lay in similar patterns as the jagged storm tattoos. She pressed her lips into the thick stamp along his wrist, finally tearing her eyes away from his. She could almost feel the hum of magic against her ear, where the cuffs he had recharged purred with recognition. Fingers continued to graze over his skin, his muscles tightening as she climbed toward his shoulder.
Both hands caught hers as she went to palm his chest.
“Brela,” Cason pleaded.
She stared up at him. “I’m not afraid of your magic, Cason,” she whispered.
And then she pulled away, her hands finding the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her own head. Baring her skin, scars, and breasts. Swallowing her own tremble of fear, she pulled her hair off her left collarbone and revealed the Veil shard to him.
Brela waited, letting him decide what he wanted as he stared into her eyes. He blinked slowly before dipping his chin in a nod, allowing her hands to guide his to her ribs. She encouraged his fingers to trace a few scars on her skin, letting his shaking settle before she returned her attention to his chest.
Fiery black tendrils swirled over his chest, the ink almost hotter than the rest of his skin under her touch. Brela ran her fingers over the muscles, studying the smooth lines of the flaming tattoos that never seemed to end. Gods, she could draw these for hours. Days. Swirl them together and create an entirely new pattern, like she’d done for Elias.
Brela shivered as Cason’s hand drifted over the side of her left breast, trying to maintain focus on the body in front of her. She didn’t want to read whatever was on his face. Didn’t want to know what emotions he was feeling as his fingers inched closer to the shard in her chest.
They were marked as enemies. The Veil Scholar and the Fire Wielder, both identities on intimate display for each other.
Yet, in studying the fire ink along Cason’s chest, feeling the ripples of muscles over his stomach, that thought was a distant memory. Even the obsidian in her collarbone had quieted while his fingers left burning pleasure in their wake.
