Free Locked in Silence: Grimm's Circle, Book 5 by Shiloh Walker

down, used his tongue to tease her lips apart, desperate to see what other sounds he could coax from her. Would she whimper, would she sigh, would she scream…?
    Desperate to find out, he lifted his head and stared at her.
    Holding her gaze, he reached for the zipper that held the snug-fitting jacket she wore closed over her lithe torso. As he tugged it down, he lowered the shields on his mind and focused his thoughts, “Do I stop?”
    A faint flush turned her cheeks pink.
    “Stop?” she whispered.
    “Yes…stop. I shouldn’t do this—I know I shouldn’t. But I’m having a hard time convincing myself of that. Do you want me to stop?”
    Vanya whispered, “No.” Her teeth caught her lower lip as she lowered her head, staring at his hand as he dragged the zipper all the way down.
    When he went to push the short black jacket back off her shoulders, she looked back up at him, her hands coming up, curling in the material of his white T-shirt.
    Silence held still as she pushed it up as high as she could then he stripped it the rest of the way off.
    The silver medallion he wore caught briefly in the shirt before falling to rest on his chest. Vanya leaned against him, her hands stroking down over his sides, up over his chest. Her fingers tangled in the light dusting of hair over his chest, tugged.
    Silence gritted his teeth against the sweet pleasure and then caught her wrists, eased them down.
    His blood burned hot—need was a scream in his head. Had to slow down—had to. Catching the thick band at the bottom of her sports bra, he slowly peeled the sturdy material away. Then he went to his knees, pressed his lips to the faint red marks it had left behind on her narrow rib cage.
    A sigh escaped her. She curled an arm around his head, bent hers low over him.
     
    This was happening—really happening.
    Too fast—way too fast.
    Yet still not fast enough, she thought as he slowly peeled her out of her pants. Each move so slow, so deliberate, as though he was either giving her plenty of time to change her mind…or plenty of time to think about what was coming.
    Change her mind— not possible, because that would require thought and she couldn’t think when he was around.
    He was still wearing the sturdy black fatigues that seemed to be his standard uniform, kneeling in front of her as he eased her feet out of the puddle of stretchy black cloth.
    Kneeling…that blond hair spilling over his broad shoulders, his head bent, his hands now resting on her ankles.
    When he started to stroke up, her breath caught in her throat.
    As his fingers brushed over the backs of her thighs, she shivered.
    When he reached her knees, he nudged her legs wider. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she let him guide her feet to where he wanted. But as he leaned in, pressed his face to her, she still wasn’t prepared.
    Not for the rough-velvet rasp of his tongue over her flesh, and not for the blistering heat of hunger that shuddered out of him, breaking over her—too much—
    “Vanya…”
    She sobbed, and if he hadn’t been holding her, she would have fallen. Only the solid, unrelenting grip of his hands at her hips, the cool glass of the window at her back kept her upright.
    His nose brushed against her clit just before his tongue speared through her folds, licking, stroking.
    “Silence…” she whimpered, fisting a hand in his hair.
    He shifted slightly, curled his tongue around her clit and started to suck on it. She felt each rhythmic pull in her very center, felt the heat building.
    Silence stroked a hand up her thigh—she felt the ridges of his scars, felt the rasping over her flesh, another sensation over too many sensations. Lightly, he teased her entrance with a fingertip, teased her, stroked her…and when he slowly pushed two fingers inside, she slammed her head back against the window and came with a sob.
    His voice was a muted rumble in her mind, one she could barely understand as she shuddered through the climax, shuddered,