Bride (Ali Hazelwood) by Ali Hazelwood

            “You looked cold in your jumpsuit.” He sucks at the same spot on my neck that he fixated on back at Emery’s, on the tarmac. “You looked so lovely, and so determined, and so fucking lonely.”

            I grind against his hand, shamelessly whimpering at the empty, swollen feeling inside me, clutching blindly at his muscled arm with both hands.

            “I thought about taking you away. I thought about getting you a blanket.” His index finger slips inside me, and with a brief adjustment, I push against it. “I thought about making you come with my mouth until you couldn’t take it anymore.”

            The pleasure snaps inside me like fireworks, a glow of heat and relief. I clench around Lowe’s hand, curling into his arm, shaking all over it. A scream burns in my throat, but I swallow it down into a small moan, and then it’s a mess, cobbled together with fluttering heartbeats and gasping breaths. Lowe is staring at me, mouth parted, throat bobbing. His icy eyes flare into mine, and I . . .

            I laugh, throaty and raspy.

            “What?” he sounds winded. Just a hairbreadth from an unspecified turning point. I’m still pulsating around his hand, and he stares at the water sloshing around my hard nipples while licking his lips.

            “Just . . .” I clear my throat, still laughing. “Could we kiss?”

            “What?”

            “We haven’t yet. It’d be nice, if we did. At some point.”

            “At some point,” he repeats in a haze. His hand cups the slick inside of my thigh, vibrating with restraint.

            “Now, if you want. Though I’m worried.”

            He scowls. “Worried?”

            “About my fangs. What if I cut you? Or bite your lips accidentally?”

            “You’ve bitten me before. I didn’t mind then.” He leans forward, eager. “I won’t mind now.”

            It doesn’t immediately work. My nose bumps against his, I cock my head a little too quickly, my hands glide off the slippery edge of the tub. “Misery,” he murmurs against the corner of my mouth, when his lips somehow end up there, sounding more delighted than dismayed by my lack of skills.

            But then we get the hang of it, and oh.

            It’s a messy kiss. Instantly, stunningly good. I’m cautious, afraid I’ll hurt him, but Lowe’s the unrestrained one. Feral. He’s the one who moves everything along, who nibbles and sucks and bruises. He uses his thumb to tilt my jaw upward, gripping my neck with his large palm once he’s satisfied with my position. It’s very deep, very quickly, and I give myself to it, to the filthy way he angles me as though he wants to know my taste from every side.

            I pull back to breathe, but he only gives me a second before asking for more. He licks my fangs, and I feel it deep in my core. His desire bursts between us, longing, frustrated. I want to do something about it.

            For him.

            “Lowe,” I mumble against his mouth, forcing myself to stand. Warm water sluices over my skin, and he follows the journey of every single drop. He leans forward to press his lips to the soft skin underneath my belly button, then rises to towel me dry.

            The front of his shirt is wet. My lashes are clumpy, beaded with water, and he kisses the drops out of my eyes. “I was scared.” It comes out like a confession. “You went limp in my arms, and I was so fucking scared.”

            I nod. “I was, too.”

            His eyes are paler than ever. “Come here.”

            He picks me up again, and I want to remind him that I’m not defenseless, but this might be more for him than me. So I bury my face into his neck, and instinctively dart my tongue to lick the glands he told me about.

            His entire body shudders, and then we’re in my room. I expect us to tumble onto my mattress, but he lowers me inside the closet, on the mound of blankets and pillows I’ve assembled. Then instantly pulls back.

            “Lowe?”

            The timbre of his voice is rough and low. “You smell like you just came.”

            I stare back, speechless at his directness. I did just come.