Page 39 of Claiming His Christmas Angel

With a wave of her hand at the bed, Octavia glanced at the mattress, then back at Atticus. The muscles of his face hardened until his features looked as if they’d been carved out of marble. The moment his gaze met hers, she gulped. Danger and sin glittered in his blue eyes as she watched him look up toward the heavens.

“This is a test, isn’t it, you bastard,” he choked out beneath his breath.

Atticus’s throat bobbed as if he were having difficulty swallowing, then he uttered a dark sound of resignation. In three quick strides, he reached the side of the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. Roughly, he twisted her away from him and began to undo the buttons of her gown. Octavia shuddered slightly as she fought to steady her nerves. The moment the back of her dress fell open, she heard a strangled noise fill the air.

“Atticus—”

“I’m glad to see the thorns didn’t scar your back,” he rasped softly.

Heat blasted its way across her skin as she felt his fingertips trace a path across her shoulder blades. Octavia turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. A stormy blue gaze shifted upward and the moment their eyes met, he stiffened.

“You should find it easy to finish undressing now.”

What appeared to be panic darkened his features, and he was already off one knee when she scrambled around to face him. In an attempt to keep him from leaving, she ran her fingers across the back of the beautifully-shaped hand pressed deep into the mattress. He jerked, then stared down at her hand covering his. Slowly returning his gaze to her face, he shook his head as if telling her not to speak. She ignored the silent warning.

“Atticus…would it be wrong if I asked you to kiss me like you did earlier?”

This time she was certain it was panic she saw flashing across his face as he stared at her in stunned silence, while his throat worked as if struggling to speak. After a long moment, he refused with a shake of his head.

“You could ask, but I’d refuse.”

The harsh, vicious reply groaned out of Atticus as if someone were torturing him. The sound made her tip her head to one side as she tried to determine what he was thinking. The memory of his agonized protest while looking heavenward made her study him more closely. The tic in his cheek indicated he was fighting a hard battle to maintain his control. It sent an odd sense of power sailing through her. For once, she held all the power, and it was a delightful, heady sensation. In a tentative gesture, she reached out to touch his cheek.

“Why would you refuse?” she whispered, enjoying the warmth of his skin against her fingertips.

“Because it would be unwise for me to kiss you.”

“Then I’ll not ask you to kiss me,” she said with a sudden rush of confidence.

Relief lightened his face, but a second later, he inhaled a sharp breath as Octavia leaned forward to kiss him. The moment she pressed her mouth to his, Atticus grew rigid again. An exhilarating hum spread its wings to beat a gentle vibration against every part of her.

When he didn’t respond to her kiss, Octavia pulled back from him. Had he been lying? It took Atticus several seconds to open his eyes, and the moment he met her gaze, she drew in a sharp breath at the desire glittering in their dark depths.

Fire raced across her skin as Atticus’s forefinger trailed down the side of her face, then along the curve of her neck. Electricity charged the air, and a deep groan rolled out of him.

“God help me.”

His hoarse whisper filled the space between them, and Octavia saw him wavering between desire and sanity. Unwilling to let him retreat, she pressed her fingers against his firm lips.

“Kiss me again, Atticus. I lied earlier. Your kisses are much more than just pleasant. They excite me,” she whispered. “I’ll beg if I must, but please kiss me.”

The soft plea pulled another groan from him. Strong hands clutched her upper arms and with a hard tug, he pulled her into his solid chest. The moment his mouth captured hers, she sighed. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shuddered beneath the sensual assault of his mouth.

Hot and fierce, his mouth plundered hers as if he were drowning, and she was his life preserver. The light scent of bergamot with fragrant notes of earth, wood, and pine swept over her senses. It was a potent male scent she knew was unique to him.

Excitement swept through her and she breathed in the hot essence of him, while her mouth clung hungrily to his. The moment his tongue swirled around hers, she moaned with pleasure. Erotic and tantalizing, she pressed herself deeper into his chest. Every inch of her was on fire and aching for him to touch her everywhere. Nothing in her dreams had prepared her for such an exhilarating assault on her senses.

Drowning in a turbulent sea of unrestrained bliss, her tongue imitated his intoxicating strokes. A primal growl vibrated against her fingertips as her hands splayed across his chest. It sent a wild exaltation dancing its way through her veins until every inch of her throbbed and tingled with delight.

Something strange and tantalizing slid its way down to her sex, and she whimpered. His mouth kissed her cheek and traced a leisurely path down the side of her neck, making her shudder with excitement. As his lips explored the tops of her breasts, she trembled, aching for him to ease the growing ache between her thighs.

“Oh God, Atticus. Please touch me. I need you to touch me.”

The moment she spoke, Atticus stiffened, then shoved her away. Standing up, he distanced himself from her in three quick strides, his features hard and unyielding. Frustrated, she stretched out her hand to him. If possible, his face became even stonier.

“I can’t do this, Octavia.”

“Why?” she whispered. “I thought you wanted me.”