Page 133 of Safe Word

I’d been so lost in the way his mouth claimed mine, in the ache thrumming low inside, that I hadn’t even heard the whisper of fabric as he stripped the jeans from his body.

But I felt him.

The searing heat of his skin brushed against mine as he parted my legs with a patience that was anything but gentle, inching close until his weight hovered over me and the kiss broke on a shared breath.

Somewhere between that heartbeat and the next, there was the soft snap of foil tearing – protection – a sound small enough to miss, but sharp enough to make me quiver with anticipation.

‘Green?’ he rumbled against my lips, the vibration of his voice sinking into my bones.

‘God, Ghost,’ I gasped, the words dragged from somewhere far more damning.

But I didn’t plead.

My legs coiled tightly around his waist, pulling him into me – forcing the decision he’d made.

I knew I’d defied him again, took what wasn’t mine to take, the way only trust would allow. Because I was starving for him.

A dark, knowing chuckle rolled out of him, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear again. ‘Punishment is due.’

I smiled and dragged the tip of my tongue slowly along the freshly-shaved line of his throat, tasting salt and skin and ecstasy, until I reached the corner of his jaw. His breath fractured as he pushed in and took away the remaining space between us.

‘Teeth or flogger?’ he rasped just as he gave that first slow drag of his length and turned my thoughts into dust.

‘T—’

He branded both the question and answer into the crook of my shoulder, the sharp edges of his teeth sinking in.

Each thrust that followed came rough, relentless, driven by the same desperate rhythm he always offered. Our bodies clashed and clung through the atmosphere heavy with sweat and need, the summer night swallowing our breathless sounds.

There was nothing but the ragged pull of air between our lips, the sting of his bite, and the brutal poetry of two bodies healing in the dark.

TWENTY-FOUR

As I stared at Scarlett in the free-standing mirror, her black Venetian mask catching a trespassing blade of moonlight, she somehow looked cruel and amused by my hesitation in equal measure. It shimmered with secrets waiting to be confessed. Her knowing, half-shadowed eyes dared me to recoil, to withdraw from this thrill that still lived in me.

If I stared too long, I feared she’d sneer.

What was I becoming?

Was I her now, or had she always been buried beneath my skin, waiting for the right man to bleed her loose?

I looked down. My bare feet pressed into the plush hotel carpet, silken and silent. The sensation brought me back to reality, if only for a moment. Then, slowly, I raised my gaze again, touched up the red gloss on my lips – deep crimson, like ripe fruit – and smacked them in defiance, staining her mouth in return.

She mirrored me.

I let out a soft, dark chuckle.

I was making her into a living creature. But Scarlett wasn’t that. She wasn’t a fantasy I’d summoned in times of weakness.

She was me.

The version Travis tried to break. The one fear had tried to drown.

The plastic lip-gloss tube crinkled in my hand, warped under the pressure of my grip. I didn’t loosen it. I didn’t look away.

‘I’m not afraid,’ I whispered. She bared her teeth. ‘I am not fragile.’

My voice was steadier this time, more flesh than breath.