Page 457 - Fourth Wing

out of my way, sending whatever careening to the floor. The clock stops

ticking.
“You’ll hate me in the morning. You. Don’t. Really. Want. This.” He

punctuates each word with a kiss along my jaw, making his way to my ear.

He bites the lobe, and my core liquefies, going molten.
“Stop telling me what I want.” I breathe raggedly and thread my fingers

through the short strands of his hair, tilt my head, giving him better access.

He takes it, working his way down my neck to where it curves into my
shoulder.

Fuck, that feels good. Every touch of his mouth to my heated skin is

flame to kindling, and I suck in a sharp breath when he lingers on a
sensitive spot, taking his time. But then he stills again, his breath hot and

wet against the side of my neck.
My brow furrows with an unwelcome thought. “Unless you don’t want

me.”

“Does this feel like I don’t want you?” He takes my hand and slides it
between our bodies, and my fingers curl around his length through his

leathers. I whimper with pure want at the feel of how hard he is for me.
“I always fucking want you.” He groans as I squeeze. Then he lifts his

head, seizes my gaze with his, and I recognize the wild need in those gold-

flecked depths. It mirrors my own. “You walk into a room, and I can’t look
away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Instantly hard.

Fucking hell, I can barely think when you’re around.” He rocks his hips into

my hand, and my grip tightens along with my stomach. “Wanting you is not
the problem here.”

“Then what is?”

“I’m trying to do the honorable thing and not take advantage of you after
you’ve had a shit day.” His jaw flexes.

I smile and kiss the side of his mouth. “It’s always a shit day around here.
And it’s not taking advantage when I’m asking”—my teeth nip at his lips