Page 170 of Marked By His Hunger
Or had they erred in weaving my thread through hers?
Only one way to find out, Draugr.
Stop being such a pussy.
I truly was dreadful at pep talks.
Sitting across from Serena, I allowed myself one indulgent moment to study her.
She wore a short, flowy black dress that revealed her shapely legs, stopping mid-thigh.
Tiny purple flowers danced across the fabric like captured starlight.
The neckline dipped low, exposing the soft swell of her breasts.
She was so damned pretty it hurt.
Her dark hair spilled in loose waves over her shoulders.
Her tanned skin glowed faintly.
Embarrassment?
Or arousal?
Fuck, I prayed it was the latter.
I did not think I could survive the night without kissing her at least once.
“If you don’t trust yourself with me, if you don’t want to be with me, then what does this all mean?” she asked.
Impatience sharpened her words.
But her scent betrayed her.
Her arousal drifted toward me, warm and intoxicating.
My eyes closed.
And then—images.
Not mine.
Ours.
Her thighs wrapped around my waist.
Her fingers digging into my shoulders.
Her mouth parted beneath mine.
The matebond bleed struck like lightning through marrow.
Fuck me.
They were coming from her.
Along with questions.
