Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 187021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
“Your bed?” she slurred.
“I almost lost you tonight, Wren. You can’t imagine I’m letting you sleep elsewhere.”
He pulled the covers back and set her down on the bed. Graves slipped her out of the towel and then pulled the sheets up. She was nearly asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Like he really had rendered her senseless. She snuggled down, inhaling the scent of leather and books and a hint of the clean laundry detergent.
She could vaguely sense that he was hanging the towels up, setting his phone to charge, and turning off the light before he crawled into bed behind her. He rolled into her, one arm falling across her chest and tugging her gently against him.
His warmth and scent and the feel of him all combined. She was sleepy, disoriented, and exhausted, but his cock was pressed against her ass, and maybe she had just enough sense left in her to take him one more time.
“Wren,” he groaned as she wiggled her ass against him. “You need sleep.”
“Mmm hmm,” she murmured.
She dragged her hand down his arm, repositioning his fingers over her breast. His head dipped into the valley between her shoulder blades. He inhaled sharply as he felt her peaked nipple.
“You can barely form sentences.”
Kierse didn’t care about any of that. So she did the unexpected—she switched her absorption off.
Graves went very still. His body a rigid form behind her, his cock lengthening at the memory she sent down the line: looking down at him as he fucked her against the shower wall. The moment he flipped her over and split her apart. The roar of her orgasm as he undid her very being.
“That…is…cheating,” he growled, his cock hard and aching against her backside.
Her mind pushed forward. Not a memory this time—a thought. Her very vivid imagination. Of him lifting her leg and sliding his cock home into her.
“You’re dangerous,” he growled.
But he was already moving, shifting his body so he could ease his cock into her pussy.
He pushed home and growled into her shoulder, “This is what you wanted?”
“Oh,” she gasped. “So full.”
The distance between them was nonexistent. He kept an arm banded across her chest, using it as leverage to rock back and forth into her. She met each stroke, pushing backward onto him. There was nowhere to go or move or breathe. Just the heat of him all around her and the feel of his cock filling her.
She was fully in the moment and hadn’t even realized that she’d kept her absorption off. Letting him see her as she saw him, her mind wide-open for him to revel in. A trust she never would have given him before the events of tonight.
Then he sent an image into her mind so she could see what he was seeing as he fucked her. As if she were the most precious and incredible thing he’d ever laid eyes on. How her body felt like returning from a centuries-long hell to touch heaven. And how he’d burn down the entire fucking world to keep her.
At that thought, he laid her flat on her back so he could get better leverage, hoisting her legs over his shoulders and slamming into her. Mere seconds of the increased friction and she was crying out into the darkened room again, him only a second behind her as they finished together.
Flames danced in his irises as she watched the entire world burn, knowing she’d let him do it.
Chapter Forty-Two
“So let me get this straight,” Gen said a few days later as they waited for everyone to gather in the library. “You’re Lorcan’s soulmate?”
Graves stilled at the word as he poured himself a drink.
Kierse cursed softly under her breath and lifted her head from her work on the decoy box. Edgar and George had brought it up for her to tinker with, to see if she could break through the Curator’s security.
“That’s what you got out of all of that?” Kierse asked as she reached for the tray of biscuits—cookies—that Isolde had brought up earlier. She snagged two of Isolde’s favorites—a jammie dodger and custard cream. Recovering from the weekend had been tougher than she’d thought. “Not the wish powder or car chase or goblin market or the tree cult?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gen said with a wave of her hand. “Business.”
Gen was right. That had been business, and while it had been full of action, it had not been what Gen’s romance-loving heart cared about. And while Gen had healed her bullet wound earlier in the week, she’d been mostly interested that Kierse was now sleeping in Graves’s bedroom.
“Okay but soulmate?” Gen said with a shake of her head. “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier? What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” she admitted.