Page 26 of Sweet Silver Bells

CHAPTER TWENTY.

O livia’s back was pushed against the back of the front door as she let out a slight yelp, followed by a giggle.

Hunter thought he might lose his mind. He loved those noises that slipped out of her.

A glimpse into her mind, her soul, every burst of air that pushed sound out of her beautiful mouth was a declaration to him that she was his as he was hers.

Hunter didn’t have the time or will to question what spell was cast over him, why he was irrevocably obsessed with her, why he would change everything about himself to be stronger for her. It had only been a few days, but he even noticed the tone of danger that developed deep in his throat.

It was her kiss. That was the danger. That kiss whispered seductive hymns of conquering immortality, and that he would have to protect her along the way.

I will.

He knew that. Did she know that now, too?

Hunter fumbled around in his pockets. Olivia’s hands seemed to be doing the same. Except she wasn’t exactly playing with his pockets. He was stiff as her fingers stroked the shape of his tip.

“Fuck,” he nearly nipped at her, burying his face into her neck as he pulled out his keys and, by the grace of God, got it into the keyhole for the first time.

Olivia’s right hand moved to the door handle, pressing down as both their bodies, tangled around one another, came tumbling down to the floor. Hunter caught himself, his arm holding himself up in a one-handed plank, the other wrapped under Olivia’s head.

“I’ve been waiting for you to be on top of me,” she said, a fire beneath her words that drove Hunter into absolute madness.

He had been waiting for it, too.

Hunter pulled her jacket buttons open with his teeth as she laughed again. “I will pull every single piece of clothing off of your body using my mouth and my hands any time you giggle like that, when you’re happy.”

“Happy?” Olivia asked, her eyes entertained. “You’re thinking of making me happy while I’m underneath you? I think there would be more pressing thoughts going through your mind.”

“Oh, there are,” he said, smiling and leaning in to place his lips back on hers as they danced a perfect tango—heated, in sync, building with every kiss.

“What are these thoughts?” she asked, coming back up for air, her hands moving to his back as she dug her nails in and slid them down the back of his jacket.

Chills ran through him, from the top of his head down to his feet, and it took everything he had not to pick her up and throw her against the wall. He imagined her moaning, her commanding him to put his hand around her throat as she moaned and writhed, her naked body against his.

He was ready now. He wanted this.

Hunter unleashed himself, giving himself permission to love the woman there before him.

You deserve her.

It felt like a lie still, sand sloshing through his brain as he struggled with the thought.

Maybe not yet, but you will.

“These thoughts are somewhere in the realm of healing more trees, emotionally, of course.”

He was joking; there was a twinkle in his eye that made it obvious. Still, Olivia turned her head and swooned, fluttering her eyelashes, a blush creeping up on her cheeks, her chest flushing, and panted breaths getting quicker as if he were truly courting a damsel from the Gilded Age.

She wants you to have her.

Something hit his back, and Hunter nearly jumped out of his skin, but instead, he held himself strong in his plank, protective of Olivia, who had just stared up with a mischievous grin before sticking out her tongue and licking him from his Adam's apple to the underside of his chin, a playful puppy challenging him and distracting him.

“What was that?” he asked, praying that she saw, hoping that Olivia didn’t smell the fear that slowly eked out from him.

It was funny how closely related grief and fear seemed to him at that moment because Hunter had settled into a life of solicitude other than the awe he had lived in around his tree siren.

Olivia only giggled as that something brushed against him again, this time falling over his right shoulder. It was the mistletoe that they had hung around the ceiling. It seemed to have grown again, needing to touch him, needing to touch her as it fell around her arm and tucked around her cheek.

“It likes you,” Olvia said. “It likes that you’re an advocate.”

I’m an advocate for her. Hunter wanted to correct that statement, to clear up the tender moment so that he could refocus on the two of them, so he could peel the boots and pants off of her.

Instead, the mistletoe grew longer and caressed his back again, pulling him down towards her as if they were being tied together with a string.

Before it got too tight, Olivia pushed Hunter up, her hands pressed firmly on his chest with surprising force, as if the mistletoe were holding her up.

Hunter looked at the sharp leaves threatening any exposed skin but was flipped over until Olivia was on top, green and red decorating her hair like a crown as it cascaded over her back.

“You are perfect,” he felt the words slip his lips. “I can’t believe you are real. I can’t believe that you’re here with me.”

“I didn’t choose you, Hunter,” Olivia said, her legs straddling over his, her ass rubbing against him. “You chose me, with your song. I told you that before. I would follow you if you asked, if you needed, because you are a part of me as I am now a part of you.”

Hunter raised his eyes immediately to the wall behind him, trying to blink away tears from the pure acceptance.

It was true, though. He had accepted her fully, and she, in turn, had done the same.

You get a second chance, Hunter. You cannot fuck this up.

Olivia pushed the mistletoe off the top of her head, and it fell willingly. There was no tightness; instead, it slackened. She put her hand on his cheek.

“Oh, Hunter,” she said.

He closed his eyes, feeling Olivia’s gentle touch. Her pinky finger pulled enough to open his lips, finding its way inside his mouth as Hunter sucked gently, looking at the woman he knew he would forever worship.

Olivia’s hands moved off of his face, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands underneath her jacket on her breasts before moving her hips again and biting her lip.

She put her cheek to her shoulder as if she were about to let her head fall back, as if she were seconds away from howling at the moon from the window.

He was about to burst. The strength and beauty of the creature—the goddess—on top of him, was more erotic than any movie he could watch, memory he could replay, or book he could read. It was a fantasy, and yet it was real. It was very, very real.

Control yourself, Hunter.

He’d better not blow it before he even got his pants off.

Even if she could forgive him, he never would forgive himself.

She didn’t make it easy, though, as her hips moved to music that he couldn’t hear, as her head rolled and her chest swayed in ceremony, in devotion, like a prayer to a divine being that couldn’t be touched, seen, or explained by ordinary people like him.

It was entrancing. This time though, there was no haze. She allowed him to be fully present, fully himself.

He looked down, the pressure almost unbearable—his body straining against the confines of his winter pants, every inch of him aching.

Need surged through him, raw and insistent, begging for release—for her.

To find a home in her heat, where he could stay, moving and pulsing with every breath, every heartbeat, for as long as she’d let him.

She's mine—my tree siren.

“Olivia,” he panted and chuckled. “You are driving me insane.”

“I think we are both already insane,” she said, sliding her hand up his chest and bopping him on the nose before standing there as he continued to lie under her.

“Come back,” he pleaded, not liking the cold air between them, the front door still open. Olivia turned and looked outside, smiling.

“You want to put on a show?” he asked, trying to read her mind.

Olivia cocked her head and considered before kicking the door closed.

“I want to wrap myself inside a tree with you, so that no one else will ever see us again.”

“I can see the appeal,” Hunter said, sitting up, laughing at her boldness.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Olivia demanded.

Hunter raised his eyebrows at her, a question in his eyes that Olivia only answered by pulling her jacket sleeve from her right arm. She then peeled it off slowly, not taking her eyes off of his. The mistletoe rose like a snake from the Garden of Eden, catching it as she let it drop.

“Great service here,” Hunter joked, his smile disappearing entirely as he gulped, nerves hitting his stomach as the adrenaline high from their passionate makeout began to simmer down, because Olivia was just starting to heat up.

Her hand moved down to the waistband of her pants, which she unbuttoned, the tight fabric springing open to reveal black lace underwear. Hunter didn’t need to remind himself where she got those, but damn, he was glad to see them on her.

Her pants were held up loosely by her hips, her exposed bikini line an open invitation for him to bury his head in between her thighs. He couldn’t wait to see what she tasted like, what sounds escaped her perfect damn mouth.

He hoped she would giggle.

Fuck.

He nearly lost it then, blowing it all up just at the thought of his dark, powerful, terrifying woman falling apart from his tongue, a gentleness, a sweetness escaping through her shadowy facade.