Page 113 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

I shake my head and push at his chest, trying to create distance. Getting involved like this will only make it hurt worse when it ends.

I need to go back to my room and remember that this is temporary. I’ll leave in three days and he’ll move on with his life and this will all be a memory. But when I try to stand, Garrett catches my hand.

“Don’t leave me,” he says quietly. His fingers wrap around my wrist tight enough to hurt.

I turn back to face him, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch. The raw desire is written so clearly I can’t pretend not to see it.

Then he kisses me. His mouth crashes against mine, one hand cupping my jaw while the other slides to the back of my neck.

I don’t pull away.

Instead, I kiss him back with everything I have. My hands fist in his shirt, dragging him closer until there’s no space left between us. The kiss deepens, becoming something desperate and hungry like we’ve both been starving for this.

When his tongue traces my lower lip, I open for him.

The sound he makes goes straight to my balls. He pushes me backward until my shoulders hit the wall. The impact jolts through me but his mouth follows, swallowing whatever sound I might have made.

He presses against me, all heat and muscle and want. His thigh slots between mine and I feel every hard line of him. He braces his hand against the wall beside my head. The other tangles in my hair, gripping tight.

His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, then down my throat. Teeth scrape over the column of my neck and I arch into the sensation.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he says against my skin, voice rough and wrecked. “Tell me to stop.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing the green.

Something fierce and triumphant flashes in his eyes when he sees whatever expression is on my face. Then he’s kissing me again, harder this time. I give as good as I get, hands sliding under his shirt to map the planes of his body. His breath catches when my fingers skim over the dip of his hip just above his waist.

We break apart only to catch our breaths. His hand still buried in my hair, mine still under his shirt.

“Stay,” he breathes. “Don’t go back to your room. Stay with me tonight.”

His hands move to my leather suit before I can respond, fingers finding the laces. My heart hammers against my ribs. This is moving fast. I know where this is going and part of me wants it desperately. But I’ve never done this with anyone I actually care about.

Garrett pauses and stares at me. I freeze, not understanding what stopped him.

His expression darkens. “What happened to your throat?”

The bruises from Shade’s grip. Fuck. I forgot about them.

“Training accident.” I keep my voice flat.

“Bullshit.” His fingers ghost over the marks gently, tracing the shape of a hand. “Someone grabbed you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I try to sound dismissive.

“It matters to me.” His eyes flash with something dangerous and cold. It reminds me of the version of him in the dungeon. “Someone hurt you. Who?”

“Garrett—”

“Wolf.” His voice drops. “Who did this to you?”

Someone who reminded me to watch my words.

Well, lesson learned. But I’m not going to tell Garrett that. Like hell I’m going to watch Garrett add Shade to his list of people who need to suffer.

“It was an accident,” I say firmly. “Drop it.”

His thumb traces one of the bruises, and I can see him losing it.