Free Sacrificial Magic by Stacia Kane Page B

and wanted to makesure she got laid first. Or as though she hoped that after, he’d be in such a good mood and so relaxed that he wouldn’t care. It would look like manipulation.
    But fuck, she didn’t want to say anything or do anything that might make him stop. Not when his mouth left hers to play with her neck, sucking on it, biting it. Not when she could feel the energy around him changing, that savagery that told her what he’d been doing all day turning into something else, something just as primitive. Just as dangerous. Her heart pounded and wouldn’t stop; desperation choked her.
    She ran her palms down his back over his shirt, then up under it over his chest to feel his skin, the thick hair and the scar on the left side, over his heart. The heart beating fast against her hand, almost as fast as hers. The heart that kept beating because of that scar, because of what she’d done.
    What she was so glad she’d done. Because if she hadn’t done it he wouldn’t be alive, wouldn’t be there with his hands hot on her back, unfastening her bra beneath her shirt, then sliding around to her front. She wouldn’t be shivering harder and arching her back into those hands, reaching up to grab his hair thick between her fingers.
    She swallowed; hard to do with her breath coming so fast in her throat. She couldn’t get enough air to speak louder than a husky whisper, didn’t want to break the kiss long enough to speak at all. But she had to. “I wanted to tell you something.”
    In response he lifted the hems of her two shirts together. It almost hurt to have to take her hands off him so he could tug both of them over her head, catching her open bra on the way; the second her arms were free she grabbed him again, feeling as if it had been months and not barely an eyeblink. And every fearful alarm in her brain warned her about that, and she couldn’t ignore it but neither could she help it.
    She wanted to continue, to tell him what she had to tell him; instead she put her mouth to much better purpose, tasting the skin of his throat salty from sweat. And while she was pulling the collar of his shirt out of her way she might as well start undoing the buttons, get it off him so he could take off the shirt underneath and she could feel his skin against hers. Her insides buzzed; she felt shivery and hot, like her body was made of liquid just about to hit the boiling point.
    Or maybe just
at
the boiling point. His lips traveled over her collarbone and farther down to tease her nipples in turn, to pull them into the hot cavern of his mouth, and what had been a whimper turned into something even more than that. More like begging, and his eyes flashed satisfaction at her when he glanced up. Pleasure at his victory.
    It felt like years instead of a week since he’d touched her, since she’d gotten to feel his weight on hers, his lips on her body; they’d decided it was better not to start anything they couldn’t finish.
    She had to tell him. Had to, but the words wouldn’t come out. Not when every cell in her body threatened to explode, not when her body acted on its own accord from wanting his so fucking bad and she knew he felt the same.
    She tilted her pelvis up so the ridge of his erection pressed against her through their jeans. Another gasp from him, a mumble of something that sounded like her name but the roaring of her blood made it too hard to hear.
    Her thoughts were starting to disappear, to focus less on actual thinking and more on instincts and sensations, especially when he popped open the button of her jeans, tugged the zipper down, and hooked his fingers under the waistband and her panties. She lifted her hips so hecould pull them down, his gaze fixed on her bare skin being revealed.
    The words burbled up in her chest, flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. Before she even realized she’d thought them. “I hung out at Lex’s place for a while today.”
    Pause. Long pause. His head dropped,