Page 77 of When She Falls (The Fallen)
He must notice how flustered I am, because he shows mercy and gives me an out. “How does the dress fit?”
I swallow. “The straps are too long.” My voice is so weak, I sound like I just ran a marathon.
“Let me see.”
He lifts his hands to my shoulders and places them on top of where my fingers are holding the straps. I let go and let him take over.
“I think they need to be adjusted by at least an inch.”
Ras threads his index fingers under the straps and gently tugs on them.
I suck in a breath as the fabric flattens over my breasts, pressing against my hardened nipples. The heat at my center pulses insistently.
“How’s that?” Ras murmurs, his hot breath brushing over my nape like a caress.
“Maybe a little more.”
Another tug. I bite down on my lip so that I won’t gasp. My nipples tighten even more, and there’s no way he can’t see them pushing against the delicate fabric of the dress in the reflection.
“That’s good,” I breathe.
“Hold,” Ras says, his voice a rasp. “I need to get the pins.”
I take over, our hands brushing in the process.
When he comes back, there’s an unmistakable hunger simmering inside his gaze. I watch as he presses his thumb on the strap and pushes the pin through.
I wince when the second pin slips through the fabric and pierces my skin.
He clicks his tongue. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s nothing.”
But he won’t take my word for it. He slides the strap off my shoulder, each one of his fingertips a hot brand across my skin. “You’re bleeding.”
Someone’s filling the air in this room with electricity. It skates over my face, my neck, my chest, and I don’t know how to turn it off. “I— It’s fine.”
“I don’t like seeing you hurt.”
The words hang suspended in the space around us. All I hear is the loud pounding rhythm in my chest.
Slowly, so slowly that I think I’m imagining it, he lowers his head and presses his lips to my shoulder.
My breathing stops. There’s a hot, warm brush of his tongue over my skin, and I feel it in places I shouldn’t. My eyes flutter closed. A new kind of need appears inside of me, the kind that buzzes inside my bones. It carries echoes of that stolen kiss in Damiano’s darkened kitchen.
This is so wrong. This is exactly the kind of trouble I was afraid of when I told myself I needed to stay away from him. I’ve never felt this way around another man.
“Ras, we shouldn’t be doing this,” I murmur, sounding breathless.
His lips move against my skin. “Tell me to stop then.”
I intend to pull away, but instead, my body leans into him.
He makes a sound of satisfaction and slides a palm over my waist.
I feel his teeth gently bite into my skin, and my lips part. My chest rises and falls. I’m a hundred degrees. He drags his palm up over the center of my abdomen until the fabric stops and he encounters bare skin above the low cut of the dress.
He moves his mouth to the sensitive place where my neck meets my shoulder and lifts his gaze to meet mine in the reflection. I arch slightly, enough for my ass to press against the front of his thighs, and there I make contact with something I’m sure has earned him more than a few compliments.
