My focus zeroed in on the firm touch of that finger against me.
I forgot how to breathe.
His fingertip was so warm, and the feeling of it against me, so close to where I wanted it, was so deliciously decadent that I had to bite down a soft moan. I didn’t know if it was him, or the ink, but this was magic. True magic. Soft sensations were rushing through me too fast to track, swirling into a sensual fire at my core.
A sweet burn accompanied everywhere he touched.
Again and again, he dipped his finger in for more ink and painted magic on my skin. I fought not to tremble under the overwhelming feelings welling up in me.
When I remembered to breathe again, my blood was humming in my ears, heartbeat so fast in my chest and againstmy palm that it almost felt like it was vibrating. I panted several shallow gulps of air in.
The moment when the first glyph fully formed, that same almost-painful heat from the cliffside settled into my skin like it belonged there. Like it was coming home.
His finger lifted. The midnight ink he’d stained it with had vanished. His skin was pristine again, as if untouched by the dark stain.
Zevrial tore his gaze away from my center then, letting it slowly drift up to my face. His cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated and lips half-parted as he watched me. A fundamental part of me relished seeing him like this, the effect I was having on him. Or maybe seeing the effect he was having on me, reflected back through him.
He trailed his hand across the top of my panties toward my other leg, watching my face as he did. Dampness spread from his motion.
His voice was a low soft rumble under my hand, still resting just above his heart. Right on top of the glyph we shared. “Still just want Skinscript?” It was a plea when it left his lips.
I could barely concentrate enough to form words around the effect his proximity and touch had on me. The heat of his hands, the hint of his petrichor fragrance, the seductive glint in his eyes.
I wanted more than Skinscript.
“No,” I whispered. An almost feral grin lit up his face.
“Only yes means yes.” He moved his hand away from me, dipping it back into the ink.
Again, he dragged that finger so painstakingly slowly against my other side. So tantalizingly close. Every touch lit up that fire growing inside me, brighter and brighter, until I thought I might combust. I stifled a moan, my hand beginning to tremble against his chest as I fought to hold myself still.
“Almost done,” he murmured, dipping his inexplicably spotless finger into the inkwell again before pressing it back.
I was throbbing, aching for more. His calloused fingertip was a gentle and coarse friction against my sensitive skin, so careful and arduous. Dark eyes flicked up to mine for the briefest moment before he returned his attention to the task.
Every inch of me was flushing with heat. I was so desperately hot, I would surely burn alive.
The second glyph fully formed against me, even hotter than my skin. It soaked into me with the same sense of comfort as warmed bathwater. My mouth parted, as I breathed heavily.
At some point I must have leaned back, because I found myself lying against the pillows of the bed, staring up at him. My thoughts were muddled.
“I owe you one more,” his voice rubbed against my skin like silk.
“No–I mean yes,” I whispered, need and urgency giving my voice a frenzied whine. I slid my free hand up to his hair, curling my fingers into the lushness. I tugged his face toward mine.
The handsome curve of his mouth made me want to taste it even more as he lowered his head toward mine. He took the hand covering mine off his chest and deftly screwed the lid back onto the ink bottle single handed, my eyes tracking the movement hungrily. Looking back up at him, he hadn’t even looked at the ink well. His eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed. The rhythmic beating in my chest was reaching fever pitch. “Is that a yes to Skinscript, or something else?”
Sliding my other hand up from his chest, I locked it around his neck and pulled him closer. “Both,” I breathed.
He groaned, hands cupping my face. “Reckless.”
His lips were so close to mine, I could smell his minty breath, feel each puff of breath on my skin. “Stop talking,” Iordered, pressing my lips against his. I swallowed his groan of final protest, as his body weight settled above mine. He tasted sweet and wicked, like every promise I’d ever broken. My pulse quickened. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air, ravishing my mouth with his lips, tongue, and teeth. Heat was building at my core, pleasure blocking out all reason. My lips parted at the sweep of his tongue, our breaths mixing together as I slid a tentative tongue into his mouth and he drove a daring one into mine. I moaned into his mouth, pressing up to him as close as I could get, tugging him down harder, urging him on.
His arms were sliding up my sides, a delicate caress that sent shivers through my body. His heart pounded at the same speed as mine, a beautiful duet of drum beats. Liquid fire was pumping through my veins, I needed this. I needed him. And I needed more.
I arched my back up against him–
Distantly, I heard the sound of a door opening. “Holy Devourer!” Sarina’s voice.
