Page 54 of Unmarked Magic

“That’s not the point.” He searched my face, looking for every reason for us not to be together.

“That is the point,” I countered. I needed him to know how serious I was, that we could do this together, no matter what life threw at us. Now was not the time for half-truths. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away and never speak of this again.”

“Red…”

“Tell. Me. You. Don’t. Want. Me,” I ground out, unsure if I could walk away if he said the words. My loaded gaze locked with his, not letting go. I dared him to take a chance on fate, to convince him we were worth fighting for. That I had his back no matter what.

It felt like a lifetime before he moved closer, chest heaving. I soaked him in. All angst, desire and no fucks to give anymore. Suddenly, his hand slid up my neck, eyes latching onto mine. “I think about you constantly.”

He paused. Shook his head. “Every time you’re close…”

Suddenly, he closed the space between us, sending me backwards until I hit the wall. He lowered his head to whisper in my ear, molding his hips to mine. “Gods, I want you.” He pulled back, staring down at me once more, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

My lips parted; I was absolutely, utterly, speechless.

He moistened his own before speaking. When he did, it came out a low husky timbre I’d not heard before. “Never question how much I want you, Red.”

At his last admission, he hardened against me. He pressed closer, letting me feel all of him, and the ache in my sex returned. Only this time, it was my body responding to him naturally. All me.

I raised my hands to cup his face, his light stubble grazing my thumbs. I don’t know where I found the confidence, but my next words surprised even myself. I lifted to my toes, bringing my lips so close that my breath floated against his. “Then make me scream your name,” I whispered.

His attention bounced between my eyes, weighing silent pros and cons. Still, he didn’t move.

I took a chance, because life is short and fuck dying with regrets. My lips brushed his as my whisper melted in his mouth. “You’ve already kissed me, told me your secrets. Now trust that I can look after myself.” I let my hand drop to the buckle of his jeans, and the worn leather brushed my fingertips. A storm in my chest blew wildly. Each heartbeat cracking open one at a time.

A rumble sounded from deep inside him.

The longest drag of silence in history.

“Red,” he rasped.

My voice came out in a whisper. “Yeah?”

I felt the moment he caved, the slow crawl of his shoulders before he pressed himself against me completely. His lips crashed into mine, bruising with weeks of pent-up stolen glances and banter. It wasn’t like our last kiss. There was no slow buildup. This kiss held a hunger in it that forced me into the wall of the manor completely. My spine hit timber, our hips riding waves that never broke. Our tongues tasted each other like we would never get another chance, saying fuck you to the boundaries forced upon us and breaking free of its restraints.

His hand gripped the nape of my neck, holding me to him, mine finding its way underneath his shirt until my fingers found flesh. His warm skin slid under my palm, and I splayed it flat, exploring the ridges of his stomach for the first time. His scars. He let me touch them. My fingertips dragged over his skin, every hollow and dip, tracing a map that my tongue wanted to follow.

He groaned, breaking our kiss momentarily. “Red, look what you’ve done to me.” His eyes dove between us to where our hips remained locked together. Grabbing my hand off his stomach, he guided it lower until it rested on his hard length.

I whimpered as his lips captured mine again, his hand moving to cup my breast.

The feel of him through his jeans made me want him bare in my hands, and, as if they had a mind of their own, they landed on his belt buckle.

My fingers trembled on contact.

He scattered kisses up my neck, the uncertainty in his tone obvious as it brushed my earlobe. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

As if in answer, I flicked the buckle, loosening his belt. The echo of his zipper sounded against the forest’s deafening blanket of silence. Sliding my hand into his boxers, I wrapped my fingers around him, causing my name to leave his lips in a way I’d never heard before.

“Fuck. Scar.” He pulled away, staring into the depths of my eyes, completely stripped bare. No smirk, no banter. Only him in the rawest state I had ever witnessed.

My words stalled in my chest. I’d never heard him say my real name. I realized then that it was because my name was a ghastly reminder of his past. Scar. His wounds. His suffering. I reminded him of them all.

As if I’d cracked open something inside of him, he pulled in a ragged breath. Like doing so was the only thing keeping him from losing control.

I felt empowered having him in hands, an addictive feeling I wasn’t sure I would shake. I knew I would want to feel it again. The slow thrust of his hips slid him through my palm, and his smooth skin moved through my hand with ease. It was like a slow dance. A waltz wrapped in silk.

He rested his forehead against mine. “I’m gone.” He shook his head as if fighting inner demons. “Never felt this…”