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He won’t do it...
“Do not bring that... thing near me.”
He takes a step forward.
...will he?
“Why not?” he says softly. “Weren’t you enjoying yourself just a moment ago?”
The animal emits a cavernous sound, a gurgle that vibrates in the air, and struggles, its legs scratching at the void. I retreat further, the edge of the pond is close to me now.
“Let it go.”
Another step. He does not take his eyes off me.
“I apologize,” I say quickly, the words tripping over one another. “I did not mean to laugh at you. Now... put it down.”
His smile widens, for a moment, I truly fear he will not.
“Fuck you, Dorian—don’t come near me—”
With a brusque motion, he flings the toad away. I hear the soft thud as it hits the leaves. I have no time to breathe. Dorian pulls off his black gloves, drops them to the ground, and lunges at me, one hand seizing my lapel, the other crushing me to his chest.
His body cuts off every avenue of escape, his lips finding mine without warning. The air breaks in my throat and ends up between us. His mouth opens, his tongue seeks me slowly, grazing my lower lip before insisting.
Instinctively, I open my mouth, and the contact deepens. His teeth clatter against mine, his tongue sweeping against my palate, wresting a breath from me I never intended to concede. My lips answer him, following. Meeting him.
I find myself chasing that movement, sustaining it, returning it. His hand tightens even harder against my back. I feel the weight of his body, the control he imposes upon me without haste.
Encore. More.
I do not pull away, my hands remain suspended between wanting to repel him and wanting to seize him. Then my body yields without asking permission, my fingers curl into the fabric of his coat, pulling him to me by a mere inch just enough to feel his chest moving against mine.
Our mouths seek each other again as if they had always known one another, as if they knew they had to meet like this, right now.
When he finally pulls away by a hair’s breadth, he remains close enough for me to still feel his breath. Both of us are breathing heavily, my chest moving in time with his. Dorian still does not look up, his chin tucked, his jaw set.
I reach out a finger and tilt his chin up.
“Why do you not look at me?”
“Because I fear I might do something truly unseemly... Viscount,” his voice is a low, hoarse whisper, “...right here, right now.”
“More unseemly than what you have just done?”
I bring my lips close to his.
He stares at them, wetting his own. “Na koleni, seychas. On your knees, now.”
God—I won’t last if he keeps talking like that.
A rustle among the leaves makes me jolt.
“Evander? Where have you gone?”
The voice arrives before the figure, I look up and see Richard emerging from between the trees.
He stops dead, his eyes widening.
