“Little moon.” Duncan stops in front of me, cupping my jaw in his big palms.
My breath catches when he leans in to capture my lips with his. The groan he lets out reverberates in my mouth, diving deep into my soul.
He groans again as my tongue searches his. The manly, possessive sound sends heat between my thighs. I whimper, giving Duncan everything I can in my bound state.
I get all of him too. More kisses, more of his tongue and teeth. His hands slide higher up my cheeks, thumbs stroking my dried tears.
“Ouch.” My open wound. I flinch, immediately hating my response to his touch.
I hate even worse that he rips himself from me as if he’s been bitten.
“Motherfuckers.” His jaw clenches, eyebrows crashing down. His hand dives into his wet hair and rakes through it. “I’m so sorry. So sorry, Elowyn.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, trying to assuage the guilt he’s drowning in. “You saved me. I’m okay.”
A cloud looms over his features, sending a chill up my spine.
“That cut…that bruise.” A snarl twists his lips. If Barclay were alive, I have no doubt Duncan would’ve killed him with his bare hands. “I didn’t save you. I was this close to being late.”
“You weren’t.” In fact, I’m so happy he’s here that I don’t even care I’m still bound to this chair.
Looking at Duncan, with both of us alive, is everything.
If he needs a moment to get it together before untying me, that’s what he’s having.
“You saved me,” I repeat. “It was all you.”
Duncan shakes his head. His hand finds my jaw, his grip tender.
The feel of his tongue on my cheek is otherworldly. It should be wrong to have him lick my blood off me. Except it isn’t.
I want that. I’m about to ask for more when he pulls away. “We got lucky.”
He drawls the wordluckyas if the taste of it disgusts him.
“It’s nothing, I swear.” I’ve barely finished the sentence, and he’s gone, rounding the chair to stand behind me. “I’m alive. That’s all that matters, right?”
“Hmm.”
Though I wish he were kissing me, his hands on the ropes are a relief.
It means my cold, calculated Duncan is back. That guilt isn’t eating him from within. That he isn’t losing his mind.
Also, I can’t deny that my body aches to be free. My skin burns from my failed escape attempts.
I don’t want the pressure on my stomach for another minute, either. It’s restricting the maybe-baby I have in there. I need to keep it safe, if it’s in there at all.
More than anything, I want to be free so I can wrap myself around Duncan. To give myself to him exactly how he wants, as rough as he’ll take it.
Energy courses through my body. All I can think of is ripping off both our clothes.
The space between my thighs is hot, hot, hotter.
I twist my head as far as it’ll go, searching for the other half of me.
My pussy throbs at the sight of him kneeling, working on the knots around my wrists.
With efficient movements and a furrowed brow, he sets me free. He’s being considerate, too, stopping every few seconds to rub the insides of my wrists, my palms.
