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When neither of them managed to break through the strained volley of pathetic apologies and so-not-needed protestations, he retreated a step farther from her and scrambled for a different tactic.
Until whatever magic that woman held him in cradled the sides of his face and stole his breath with her mouth.
Fire of a different sort flared through him, strengthening his muscles with renewed purpose. Even surrounded by the most decadent softness his long existence could only have imagined in fever dreams, Brass remained a rigid plank of disbelief.
Her mouth was on his.
Holy fucking mages.
How many times had he wondered what her lips would feel like, taste like? The ideas would come at him in tormenting tidbits he rarely allowed himself to consider. What was the point? His destiny had been cemented long ago, and every borrowed breath skated him closer to that cliff’s edge.
Death would have been kinder than the reality of her mouth against his. If he wasn’t alive, he couldn’t linger on the memory of her, knowing it would always remain one.
He was just about to wrench himself away when uncertain pecks of her teasing lips stalled his retreat. Curious insistent presses interrupted thoughts of his morose future, slamming him back into a present he still couldn’t believe was his. And then his body responded, deciding on its own to seize the magic of both her mouth and the moment before more logical parts could prevail. Brass tested her eagerness, needing to be absolutely certain this wasn’t some delusion.
She was kissing him. Molly was really kissing him.
Fucking. Hell.
He groaned against her mouth in helpless frustration.
I’m already there.
Or he would be in a handful of sun cycles. The realization grabbed hold of his senses and speared him through with a blooming frenzy.
Her soft whimpers dragged him further into her heat, and then he was lost to the burning resignation that gripped him. If kisses were what she wanted, he would redefine the word for her.
Brass opened wider to her distracting caresses, unfurling her to him with greedy pulls. A bold swipe of his tongue had her gasping. A moan vibrated down his spine the moment her exquisite taste flooded his senses. More. Mine. The declarations became vows as he sampled more of the siren in his arms.
Was that what she was? A siren of some sort? Some witchy water woman who called males to their doom with unseen lures and sinful promises? Oh, there was definitely magic here. He could feel it pulsing between their skin, transferring in the air they exchanged and melting on their tangled tongues.
It tasted divine, and if Molly’s flavor was to be his last meal, he’d give his soul to gorge himself on it before fate claimed him.
The woman had powers all right, powers she had no idea of. They seized him so completely they were like a banshee’s keen, drawing his balls up tight and thickening his cock against his thigh. A primal urge to escape tapped out a soft reminder in the back of his mind. A warning, both innate and learned.
Magic swirled unspoken between them, beckoning, beguiling, betraying . . .
His kisses slowed for an instant as the idea began to seep in.
He should be running.
So he did.
Brass pushed forward, breaking free of her mouth and sighing against her kiss-swollen lips until her shoulders brushed the wall where the whole mess had started. Once his forehead touched hers and he’d closed his eyes so as not to bear whatever regret may have lurked there, he trusted his voice to carry him the rest of the way. “You can’t be kissing me like that, Molly. You can’t be offering me that mouth when I know you’re more likely to use it to curse me than keep me here.”
“I know.” The reply was weak and ineffectual but, surprisingly, held a note of unmet need. “I know.”
Despite the mutual protests, neither of them moved. Both their hands rested and remained obediently still on one another, his on her hips and hers on his chest. The only acquiescence to the crackling energy demanding a spark was the desperate press of their foreheads together.
“Tell me to leave,” he panted against her mouth. “Push me away right now and lock the damn door.”
“I—”
“Do it!” He roared the words and regretted them instantly when her bottom lip quivered and his celestial senses homed in on her elevated pulse thumping against his chest where her hands still lingered.
“I won’t,” she replied, this time with the returned assurance he knew she could switch on when she needed to.
But he didn’t want her to need to.
