Page 93 of Nightshades

I giggle, skimming my fingers from shoulder to shoulder. “I really love your body,” I compliment, loving that I have a chance to truly talk to him, to get to know him. Even though we are fated mates, there’s so much I want to learn about him.

Even though I’ve seen the darkest parts of his mind, I want to know what makes him happy.

“It’s green,” he mumbles as if he isn’t the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.

“Green is my favorite color.” I continue to drag my fingers back and forth across his shoulders. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” I change the tone of my voice, wanting him to know how serious I am. “I love all the things that make you different.” His shoulders are so wide, it takes me a few seconds longer than normal to get to one side.

“Hombros,” I finally say, my voice slightly husky with need, the longer I touch him. I’m getting distracted by his nipple piercings. God, no one should be this good-looking.

“Hombros,” he repeats as the slight scratch of our skins touching sounds in the silence of the living room. “What’s that mean?” His words are spoken with a growl, his roots begin to move on their own accord, every part of him needing to touch me in some way.

“Shoulders. I love how wide they are. How strong they are. How big.” I lick my lips, hoarse with lust, and it’s pooling between my legs. I begin to rock against his long, thick, hard, solid cock.

I gasp, my clit dragging along his length. Shade’s nostrils flare, and his claws bite into my skin when his hands slip up my shirt.

“All of you is…big,” I say, rocking against him even harder.

My skin ignites with heat, a sheen of sweat draping over me, which causes my long hair to stick to the back of my neck.

“You like that? You like that I’m big?”

“So much. I love everything you do to me. The fear you give me, that thrill I seek, the pain, I crave it. You’re everything I never knew could exist. I know what happened to you was terrible, and maybe you can talk about it with me one day about the experiments, but I’m happy you’re here, and you’re…you.”

“I’m glad you’re you too,” he whispers, eyes dropping to my lips at the same time my palms skim down his chest.

It’s such a nice chest.

Never in my life have I ever seen muscles like this or a frame so wide. His pectorals are defined, strong, his dark green nipples hardening when my thumb caresses the piercing.

“Pecho,” I force my dry tongue to peel away from the roof of my mouth to speak.

“Pecho,” he repeats with flared nostrils. “Translate for me, Little Dream.”

“Chest,” I nearly whimper. “The most perfect chest I’ve ever seen.”

His claws ruin another shirt of mine, ripping through the material just to tear it from my body, along with my bra.

“Hmmm,” he growls.

I’ll never get tired of that sound. “I love your chest too.” He palms my breasts, sparks flying through my abdomen. “Maybe I’ll fuck them one day, drown you in my come, make you choke on it.”

I throw my head back and moan, imagining his come filling my throat so much that I can’t breathe.

His pants rip, the sound causing me to look down. The seams tear down the sides, his cock hardening even more, growing to the point his pants can’t contain him.

This is the first time that I get a proper look at it. I’m not delirious and out of my mind in a nightmare or paralyzed by his nightshade flower. I’m coherent, nervous, and excited.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” he says. “But you’re not afraid.”

“I’m never truly afraid. Not with you,” I admit, still taking my time admiring his chest. “Yes, you scare me, but I want it, and you know that. It’s like…” I lean forward, pressing a small kiss to his expansive chest. “I don’t know.” I can’t seem to find the words.

“Like we were made for one another. Because we are. Do that again.”

A sly, knowing smirk ghosts my face. “This?” I press another kiss on his chest. Nothing special. I’m just enjoying touching him. “Or this?” I scoot back, lowering myself to kiss him on his abs. “Abdominal, I’m afraid, is the same in English. There isn’t a translation for it.”

“Sounds better when you say it,” he says on a moan, his claws digging into the couch. “Your touch is gentle.”

I kiss his lower abdomen. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”