Page 87 of Inked in Bloom
Not fixed. Not shiny. Not whole.
Butours.
With each delicate brush of our lips, the tingling tapers and tapers until it buzzes with the pelting rain along my flesh. The air turns sharp and sweet. I shift in his lap, his jeans rubbing deliciously against me. It feels incredible but it’s not enough. I wish I had the energy to rip off all our clothes and get some real friction.
Something twitches against my hip, and Briar groans. If my mouth weren’t so dry, it’d be watering.
“Please,” I whimper against the corner of Briar’s mouth, rubbing my thighs together.
His body trembles and he sucks in a breath.
“Everything’s going to be okay.” His chest heaves and he takes my hand in his, thumbing the droplets scattered across my skin. “It’s your solstice instincts kicking in.”
No. It’s so much more than that.
I swallow back the thought, and Briar sweeps my rain-soaked hair away from my face, his hand grazing my cheek and the side of my throat. “You need to get back to the Center.”
That’s the last thing I want right now.
“No.” My breaths come in shallow pants. My spine zips with pain as I straighten. “I need to come.”
Briar’s pupils dilate, glued to the bits of clothes soaked against my body. He swallows audibly, eyes darting away from me. “There are inhibitors. Things that can help you—ones listed in the pamphlet. The ones you chose on the questionnaire.”
I hook my knuckle under his chin and lift his gaze until our noses touch. “Fuck the questionnaire.”
His face is pained. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.” I don’t think I’ve ever meant something more.
Nerves flit through the bond. He doesn’t believe me, but how could he when I rejected him and refused to let him in? I need to show him how serious I am.
Parting my knees, I guide his shaking hand between my legs. At the delicious sensation of his fingers tracing my underwear, I kiss the base of his throat and drag my tongue along the vines there, tasting every inked marking as if it were crucial to my survival. “I mean it more than you know.”
“Monroe…” he warns, but it comes out strained. “This is your body craving its magic.”
Wrong. The only thing I’m craving ishim.
With each droplet of rain hitting my skin, another fantasy sinks in, curling low and deep, along with his twofingers I guide inside myself. There are hundreds of ways I’ve imagined us together, and all of them pale in comparison to reality. His eyes on mine. His thumb whispering across my clit. The rumble of his throat beneath my lips.
“Please, Briar,” I press a kiss to his warm flesh and grind myself against his hand. “I need you.”
For Fate’s sake, I wish there were no layers between us. Every piece of fabric keeping his body from mine scratches against my skin, and I reach with shaking fingers for the zipper of his jeans.
“No,” he says, and I stop instantly. He inhales slowly. “Those stay on.”
“But don’t you want?—”
The hand bracing me splays at the base of my spine, euphoria flitting along my flesh. “You have no idea how much Iwantwith you, Monroe.”
The way he says my name weaves itself low where my body shifts against his. I lick my cracked lips. The hardened bulge pressing into my hip paired with the desire rushing through me remind me how much he wants this too.
“Touch me, Briar.” I smile to ease the conflict of his desire and concern colliding in my chest. “Are you really going to make me beg?”
He shakes his head. “Never.”
I part my knees and he inhales sharply. The ball of throat works, hesitation slipping in and out of the bond.
“I promise I want this, Briar.” I hold my breath, preparing for him to say no.
