Page 458 - Fourth Wing

—“correction, begging you to make my day better.”

“Violet.” He says my name like a warning, as if he’s something I should
be wary of. Violet. He only says my name when it’s just the two of us, when

all the walls and the pretenses fall away, and gods if I don’t want to hear it

again and again, just like that.
“I don’t want to think, Xaden. I just want to feel.” I release him. One tug

of the ribbon is all it takes to unravel the long, loose braid of my hair, and I

run my fingers through the mass.
His eyes darken, and I know I’ve won.

“Fuck me, this hair,” he says, then hovers his mouth over mine. “And this

mouth. All I ever want to do is kiss you, even when you piss me off.”
“So kiss me.” I arch into him and claim his lips, kissing him like this

might be the only time I’ll get the chance. This kind of desperation isn’t
natural; it’s a wildfire that’s likely to burn us both to the ground if we let it.

The kiss is blatantly, deliciously carnal, and I melt against him, matching

every thrust of his tongue with mine. He tastes like mint, and Xaden, and I
can’t get enough.

He’s the worst kind of addiction, dangerous and impossible to sate.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb skimming the hypersensitive

skin of my inner thigh.

“Don’t stop.” I’ll die if he does.
“Fuck, Violet,” he groans, slipping his hand between my thighs.

Never mind. That is how I want him to say my name from now on. Just

like that.
He glides the fabric of my underwear across my clit, and my back arches

at the burst of pleasure that radiates through my body, so sweet I can taste

it.
He captures my mouth with his again in a hungry assault, his tongue

sliding against mine as his fingers stroke me through the fabric, expertly
using it for friction. I try to rock my hips against his hand for more, but my