Page 27 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

With a growl his hand snaked behind her head, fingers tense on her neck as they speared through her hair and positioned her head to kiss her roughly, both of them desperately balancing lips and tongues and gasps for air.

She hooked her own hands around the back of his head to steady herself against his aggressive assault of her mouth.

She couldn’t name why his ferocity echoed through her, heightening the friction where she was grinding against him.

Or why the harsh crash of his mouth bordered on painful, but she would have killed him if he stopped.

She was chasing something that she couldn’t name, desperate to reach it.

“I’m so close,” she whispered, not knowing what other words to use.

“Fucking hell.” He ripped away from her lips and drew his tongue over her exposed nipple.

“Holy fuck—“ All at once, the sensations overwhelmed her. Her eyes shot open, unable to speak or think beyond the pleasure thrumming everywhere .

Her arms began to shake, her eyes wide open but she saw nothing as every single sense she possessed was consumed by the erotic combination of the rough scrape of his mouth against her sensitive skin and the movement of her hips.

Her grip tightened, dragging him closer until he couldn’t move his head away if he wanted.

A muffled moan was her only indication that he was okay with her use of force.

She was clinging to him, her entire body unmoored except for where he touched her.

His tongue worked over the tender skin, lapping at her nipple until it was suddenly too much. She was about to shatter into pieces. The couch creaked and protested, the wood frame splintering.

And then she was there, finally, riding waves of pleasure somehow even more powerful than anything before.

Her movements turned erratic, stuttering.

Her nails dragged through his hair and down his neck to grasp for the support of his strong shoulders.

Only as the last tendrils of pleasure stole from her limbs did she begin to loosen her grip.

She leaned on him more. The caress of fabric was electric on her heated skin and she adjusted so she was no longer in danger of brushing against his still hard erection.

Her hair fanned around her as she finally leaned toward him, her forehead resting on his.

She couldn’t see his face, her eyes closed in lazy stupor. She feared she’d see a smirk of victory if she dared look.

“Are you alright?” He asked, when she had been silent for too long.

She opened an eye.

No smirk. His irises were still more black than blue, desire lingered in his gaze, but the rest of him was thoughtful, almost serious. Not what she expected. Maybe gloating, but not reservation.

“I…” She found it almost funny, humor taking over her mouth and threatening to make her laugh—not with derision, but with genuine mirth. “I suppose I understand the draw of coupling now. It’s quite addicting.”

He did laugh, but she didn’t feel mocked.

“ That , was merely foreplay. A taste of the possibilities.” He used a finger to sweep some of her hair behind her ear.

It was an oddly sweet gesture, completely unfitting the brash rogue he often exemplified.

“Had I not found my last shred of decency I’d show you exactly what could be accomplished if, for a start, I stripped you of every piece of these cumbersome garments. ”

Her body tingled as he spoke, thrilled by the possibility, but then…

what possibility? Was she going down the path of fallen woman who gives in to lust with no promise of marriage?

Was this love? No, it was attraction, certainly, and…

well, he had his moments. But Miranda had no plans to get married and settle down.

She just wanted…she didn’t know what she wanted.

To play this game a little longer? To enjoy the hunt and mystery and danger, but also maybe see what other pleasures Devin could show her, because it was far too late now.

She wanted to explore everything. Screw his decency.

However much the sentiment made her appreciate him all the more, her body wanted the unscrupulous cad.

His smile turned somber as she grew quiet.

She was nestled in his side, his arm hooked around her in an embrace almost romantic.

He just kept surprising her. She thought he would be unbearable at her weakness.

She had just given in to his flirting and charms, succumbing to his allure.

Yet he had kept her in control the entire time, allowing her to decide how far things went.

Resisting her to the point of pain if his expression had been any indication.

Miranda was struck with the urge to kiss him again, but, not out of lust or desire, the urge was more tender than that.

She wanted to kiss him because…because…she didn’t know why.

Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it, not even to herself.

But it was dangerously close to a need for affection.

“I’m still new to this,” she started, and normally she would be loath to sound so uncertain and unsure, especially to someone like him, but in this area she did concede that he was the expert and she the novice.

She had no plans to marry, but given how enjoyable it was to share intimacy with a man, she would not be opposed to other attachments in the future.

Perhaps from less annoying suitors. And, whatever her ire with him during the day, she felt safe enough to continue. “So…was it, were you—”

He silenced her with a soft, gentle kiss. Her shock kept her from reacting with more than a giddy smile. Maybe he liked her more than she suspected. Maybe his flirting and banter wasn’t just show. Her heart started racing. If she was right, did that change anything? Did she—maybe—want to try?

“If you’re doubting your utter prowess in satisfaction again, I’m going to have no choice but to prove how very proficient you are.”

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, but she liked the implications. It felt less like a jest and more like admiration.

He stared into her eyes for a moment. No smirk. No mask. He gazed at her with a tenderness that sparked something inside her, not her lust or carnal desires, but her heart. He looked at her and her heart answered.

Heavens, maybe she did like him. A little.

The moment grew heavy, the stillness around them suddenly too still. His finger began a slow dance up and down her arm, though not in an evocative way. Affection. Tenderness. These were not words she had ever thought would describe him.

Maybe she was more than a skirt to chase, maybe he liked the whole aggressive and impulsive side of her.

Did just the parry of words thrill him as much as it did her?

Surely, he was too experienced to be affected by such a trivial exchange.

Yet, nothing about what they just did suggested he was indifferent to her.

Her heart lurched again, her mind carrying her down fanciful daydreams that she didn’t dare ponder for too long, lest he speak and burst her indulgent bubble.

“Mira,” he said, soft and with a tremor of uncertainty.

Did she make him nervous? He made her nervous.

And her stomach flitted with butterflies when he called her ‘Mira.’ No one had ever done so before and it felt like a secret for only them, hidden from the rest of the world like the bruises his fingers left on her hip.

She tensed, waiting, but whatever he had wanted to say was not to be shared. The immortal she’d passed in Devin’s home, came crashing into the room.

“Drake,” the man started, then threw up his hands and averted his eyes as Miranda jumped up and adjusted herself. Blood bloomed so fiercely in her cheeks she feared they’d catch fire. “Damn it, Devin.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We’re clothed, you prig. What the hell is it?” Devin stood, moving so he blocked her from view.

Jack uncovered his eyes and started, “It’s…”

He was cut off by a racket of thuds and bangs. Screams.

Devin ran for the door. Miranda followed on his heels.

Perhaps it was a fight between patrons? She glanced at the sunlight streaming through the windows.

It was morning? Her parents would have gone looking for her by now.

She had to get home or she’d never be able to explain her absence. She was a terrible liar.

“What’s the situation,” Devin asked as they flew down the stairs, taking two at a time. Jack moved with little effort, like he was walking a leisurely pace instead of full out sprinting down several flights.

“It came out of nowhere. There’s a group of them just stormed the door. They were inside before anyone could blink. They’re wearing all black, no identifying markings of any kind. Is this Wraith? A message?”

“Graves.” Devin’s voice was cold steel. “Jack, get as many out as you can. Patrons. Servants. All of them.”

“Security is already trying to hold them off,” Jack commented before disappearing like smoke to his task.

“Mira,” Devin called as he stopped at the bottom of the stairwell. He took her hand and pulled her focus to him. She bobbed on her feet. Ready for whatever awaited. “There is a back exit. You head that way and go home. Do you understand?”

She almost nodded, too full of adrenaline to listen clearly, but then she caught his meaning and tore her hand free of his clutches.

“What? No.” Who was he to tell her what to do, anyway? “Not a chance. I’m staying and I’m helping. I’ve trained for this. I can handle myself.”

“Damn it, Mira, I can’t bloody argue with you right now. I can’t focus on what I need to if I’m worried about your safety.”

“Then don’t. I’m stronger than you,” she countered.

“You’re impossible. Stubborn. Infuriating. Bloody temptress who can’t listen to reason to save your damn life.” He sounded seconds from stomping his feet on the ground. “I don’t care how capable you are, this is not your fight. I am telling you, go home .”