Grace and Glory (The Harbinger 3) - Page 85

He shook his head no.

“Good, because what I do want is you, Zayne, now and always.” I felt my cheeks warm. “Key emphasis on the now part.”

For a moment, I thought he was going to refuse, and at that point, I planned on just jumping on him. I hoped he kept his footing on the slippery tile, but then he did move.

He lowered his head, and when his mouth touched mine, I realized that I had in no way experienced all his kisses, because this one was everything. Both infinitely tender and wholly demanding, he kissed with a sense of urgency and yet in a way that made me feel like we had all the time in the world.

And this kiss...it flipped and twisted my insides into a heady mess. Sensations raced over my skin and through me. My heart surged and the feeling unfurling in my chest was just as intense as the throb of grace. He kissed me as if he sought to erase the endless hours and days we’d been apart.

Under my hands, I could feel his muscles flex as he lifted me in his arms. I wrapped my legs around him as the arm around my waist kept me tight against him. His mouth never left mine as he turned us. I had no idea how he managed to shut the water off, and I didn’t even know exactly when we’d left the shower. There were moments in the bathroom when he stopped, and I was pressed between him and the wall. Then we were moving again, and it wasn’t long before my back hit the rumpled blankets on the bed. We were together, our bodies slippery, our wet hair soaking the sheets we quickly became tangled in, and then we were wrapped up in one another. His hands were everywhere, the heat of his mouth following as I traced the lines of his chest and stomach, reveling in the feel of him. His mouth was wicked, dragging breathy sounds from me, lingering on my breasts, and then he was moving lower, below my navel and even lower still. When his mouth closed over that sensitive part, he devoured me, and I was left mindless and throbbing from those drugging kisses.

This time, there was a brief pause for protection. We weren’t going to keep testing fate there. Then he was settling over me, his warmth and weight welcomed and so desperately missed.

“I love you,” I whispered against his mouth as I urged him closer with my hands and my kisses.

I moved against him and then he moved inside me. There were no more words from there. None were necessary as we fell headfirst into the desire and passion, but those weren’t the only things between us. In each kiss and touch were relief, acceptance and a need and want that went beyond the physical. And there was so much love building between us, we were happily drowning in it.

There had been no real semblance of control before that, but things got...they became frantic. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts, and he worked both arms under me, lifting me against him. We both were like ropes stretched too far, and when we snapped, we did so together, tumbling over the edge. As tight, rolling shocks came in endless waves, I felt the stir of air against my cheek and the feel of something soft lying against my arm. My eyes fluttered.

It was Zayne’s wings.

They had come off his back and now draped over the both of us, the feathers. My gaze lifted, and I saw the stars on the ceiling, glowing as softly as Zayne’s wings.

22

Sometime later, we lay facing each other. A sheet was tucked under my arms, and he was, well, gloriously naked and completely at ease with all of that. Probably because the bedside lamp he’d turned on left all those interesting bits of his in the shadows. His hand was wrapped around mine—the one I had sliced open during the spell. I was bone-deep tired and I had no idea what time it was, but his wings were still out, one resting on his side and the other behind him, and I wanted...I wanted to touch one so badly.

But I was being an adult and operating by the no-touch-without-asking rule. Warden wings could sometimes be sensitive, and you didn’t just go around willy-nilly touching them. I imagined these must be the same, since he reacted so strongly when I did try to touch them before.

God, Zayne actually was an angel. Well, a fallen angel, to be exact. It was weird how every so often the reality seemed to smack me straight in the face.

“The wings,” I said, smothering a yawn. “That was different.”

“I didn’t know that would happen.” He started to tuck his one wing back.

Tags: Jennifer L. Armentrout The Harbinger Fantasy
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