Page 27 of Heartflame

I heard him shift on the bed, and then, to my surprise, he moved closer. Not by much, but enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. And close enough that I could tell his scent had shifted toward something less irritated and more… curious.

“Why are you being nice to me?” he asked, and the vulnerability in his voice made my throat tight.

“Because you deserve it,” I said simply.

He made a small, almost broken sound. “That’s not an answer.”

“Because I can’t help it,” I admitted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Because even when you’re driving me insane, even when you’re fighting me at every turn, I just want to... I don’t know. Take care of you. Be near you. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Aeron—”

“I know,” I cut him off. “You don’t want that. You don’t want me. But that doesn’t really change how I feel. Honestly, I’m not even sure why I feel it. I just do.”

In the darkness, I felt rather than saw him turn toward me. His breathing had quickened, and I could smell that spike of arousal cutting through the fear and tension. My own body responded immediately, my cock hardening in my jeans.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered. “Us being stuck together.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “You hate me.”

“You’re right,” he said, his body shifting closer. “You’re the most annoying asshole I’ve ever met.”

“High praise, coming from you, Red.” I looked up at him, barely able to make out his shape in the dark. He was inches away from me. “I bet you’re gonna yell at me again any moment now⁠—”

I was cut off as his lips pressed against mine.

It wasn’t tentative or timid like I expected. This was desperate, hungry, his mouth finding mine in the dark with unerring accuracy. His hands came up to grip my shoulders, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss. I responded immediately, one hand sliding into his red hair while the other wrapped around his waist, drawing his body against mine.

He tasted like old fear and adrenaline. But his pheromones were filling the room now, sweet and wanting, and I couldn’t get enough. When he broke the kiss to breathe, I immediately went for his neck, trailing my lips along that sensitive skin just below his ear. He gasped, his fingers digging into my shoulders.

“We shouldn’t,” he breathed, but he was already pulling his shirt over his head.

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, doing the same.

In the darkness, I couldn’t see him, but I could feel every inch of his skin as it pressed against mine. His chest was lean but muscled, his abs pronounced. I mapped the landscape of him with my hands and mouth, learning every sensitive spot, every place that made him gasp or moan.

“Aeron,” he whispered, his voice raw.

“I’ve got you,” I murmured against his collarbone. “Just like before.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, though in the darkness I could only make out the faint outline of his features. His breathing was ragged, his pupils blown wide. Without a word, he pushed me backward on the bed, straddling my thighs.

My hands immediately went to his hips, steadying him as he leaned down to kiss me again. But this time, he was more methodical, more deliberate. His lips traced a path down my chest, following the line of my muscles, and I realized what he was doing just as his hands reached for my jeans.

“Red—” I started, but he silenced me with a look I could barely see in the darkness.

“Shut up,” he said, and there was something almost tender in his tone despite the command.

He worked my jeans open with careful precision, pushing them down along with my underwear until my cock sprang free. For a moment, nothing happened. I couldn’t even hear him breathing. Then his hand wrapped around me, stroking slowly, and I had to bite back a groan.

“Holy fuck you’re big,” he murmured, almost to himself. “And… you have… ridges.”

“Too big?” I asked, reaching down to thread my fingers through his hair.

“Fuck no,” he shot back. “I’m not a quitter.”

He took me into his mouth slowly, carefully, like he was learning the feel of me. The warmth was almost overwhelming after two weeks of jerking off alone. I had to fight the urge to thrust up into his mouth, to take control, to demand more. Instead, I held still, letting him set the pace, letting him explore.

His tongue worked along the underside of my shaft, and I felt my eyes roll back. The rain continued its steady rhythm outside, a counterpoint to the soft sounds he was making as he worked me deeper into his mouth. One of his hands wrapped around the base while the other rested on my thigh, his fingers pressing into the muscle.