Page 91
Carnage meets me halfway. His hands come up to my face, his rough palms settling against my cheeks with so much care it catches me somewhere deep. This man is built for violence, broad shoulders and scarred knuckles, hellfire sitting permanently beneath his skin, but his thumbs move over my cheeks like he’s afraid of pushing too hard.
My hands curl around his wrists, and for a second, we stay there.
His amber eyes move over my face, and something tightens beneath my ribs as the space between us starts to feel smaller. I know what he’s asking before he makes a single move closer, his whole body held back while he waits for me to answer.
My pulse kicks harder. “Yes,” I whisper.
Something flashes through his eyes.
Then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is slow, almost careful, his lips moving against mine while one hand slides from my cheek into my hair. I lean into him, fingers tightening around his wrists as the warmth beneath his skin starts bleeding into mine.
He kisses me again.
Deeper this time.
The last of my hesitation disappears.
My hands leave his wrists and fist in the front of his shirt, dragging him closer until my body meets his and the sound that escapes me gets swallowed between us. Carnage comes willingly, his arm wrapping around my back as he kisses me harder, and my knees damn near buckle when his body presses fully against mine.
His arm catches my waist before they get the chance.
I laugh softly against his mouth.
His lips curve against mine.
“Shut up,” I whisper. One eyebrow lifts. “You can be smug without talking. It’s actually really fucking annoying.”
His smile gets worse, so I kiss it off his face.
His hand tightens at my waist, but before he can start walking me backward, my fingers catch the edges of his cut.
Carnage pauses, and I push the leather slowly from his shoulders, holding his gaze as I ease it down his arms. There’s something about taking it from him that feels more intimate than it probably should, especially when his eyes follow my hands as I turn and lay it carefully across the desk instead of dropping it with everything else we’re about to lose.
When I face him again, he’s still looking at the cut.
“What?”
His eyes lift to mine, softer than they were a second ago, and the corner of his mouth pulls up just slightly. He glances at the cut again, then back at me before giving my hand a small squeeze.
It takes me a second.
Then I get it.
My chest squeezes. “You’re welcome.”
His smile grows, and there’s something almost shy about it that has no fucking business looking that good on Carnage.
His mouth curves, and then his hands are back on me, pulling me into another kiss.
We start moving toward the bed, but neither of us gets very far before clothes start getting in the way. My hands find the hem of his shirt and push underneath, my palms sliding over hot skin before I drag the fabric upward. Carnage lifts his arms and lets me pull it free, and it barely hits the floor before his mouth finds mine again.
His fingers catch the bottom of my shirt next, and he pauses there.
Even now, he waits.
I lift my arms.
