The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(31)
Author: M. Leighton

I licked my suddenly dry lips. I looked down at his mouth, willing it to move closer to mine. Absently, I wondered why I’d never noticed how perfectly sculpted his lips were, firm and masculine. My mouth watered as I pondered what they might taste like.

Then, as if in answer to my silent plea, they began to move closer and closer and closer. When I could no longer focus on them, I let my lids fall shut and I waited.

It began much like my kiss with Stephen had, with the feather-light pressure of his lips on mine. But that’s where the similarities ended. Gently, he brushed his lips back and forth across mine. I felt a thrill from the rubbing sensation that reached all the way down to my navel.

My lips parted of their own accord and I felt the pressure of his mouth increase the tiniest bit. His arm tightened around me then the other one came into play, his hand sliding beneath my robe and around my waist, drawing me into his embrace.

Excitement jumped along my nerves when I felt the tip of his tongue slip slowly between my lips. Opening my mouth a little wider, I welcomed it, felt its silky length slide along mine. It felt warm and wet and erotic and he tasted like coffee mixed with something sweet.

Once again, I fisted my fingers in his hair, this time holding his head to mine. I felt as much as heard his groan. It hummed along my tongue then all the way down to my toes. One of his hands came up to cup the back of my head as he deepened the kiss. He turned his head to the side and plundered my mouth, his tongue licking along mine, coaxing it into his mouth.

Then, just as I was about to be swept away, his lips were gone. For a moment, I felt the sting of loss, but then he rested his cheek against mine and I was caught up in the prickle of his stubble. It sent a shower of cold chills down my neck and shoulders and his warm breath tickled my ear. I noticed with some satisfaction that his breathing was as ragged as mine.

“Carson,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress that I felt flutter in my stomach.

He held me like that for several long minutes, until our breathing returned to normal.

“You’re freezing,” he observed, running his hands up and down my wet back.

I certainly wasn’t aware of the cold; I was warmer than I could ever remember being. But I wasn’t about to argue when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me inside.

He walked through the kitchen into my room and then into the adjoining bathroom where he gently set me on my feet next to the shower. My heart was thundering nervously in my ears and my hands were shaking as I lowered them from his neck to his chest.

Suddenly self-conscious, I hesitantly raised my eyes to his. In my peripheral vision, I saw him reach behind the curtain and then I heard the spray of water as it beat against the shower walls. His eyes never left mine.

I felt his hands at my neck. He lowered them to my shoulders, slipping his fingers under the edge of my robe. His hands slid down my bare arms, pushing the robe off as they went and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Chills spread across my chest and belly, several body parts tightening and tingling excitedly.

“I-I haven’t-,” I stammered. “We can’t—”

Thankfully he interrupted my pitiful attempts at coherent speech, saving me from having to make the most embarrassing speech of my life.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. “You need to get warm, though.”

All I could muster was a nod of agreement. I stood perfectly still, flushed and warm, while he pulled the tank over my head and let it drop to the floor. Then, his eyes never leaving mine, he squatted down in front of me and hooked his fingers in the band of my pajama pants. Slowly, he slid them over my hips and down my legs, his smoky eyes blazing passionately into mine.

When I stood before him in nothing but bra and panties, every inch of my skin on fire, he let his eyes fall inch by inch down to my feet. As they made their way back up my body, he rose to his full height. He was so close I could feel the heat coming off his body in thick, steamy waves.

His eyes bored into mine. They mirrored the desire that I felt boiling inside me. When he bent to brush his lips over mine, I was already mindless with passion. But then he, too quicky, he broke the contact and turned away.

He paused in the doorway to look back at me, his hand on the knob. One side of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. Then, just before he pulled the door shut, I saw his eyes dart to the mirror at my back. I could’ve sworn I saw him frown right before the door closed with a soft click.

I took my time in the shower. When I got out, I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and rubbed lotion into my still-sensitive skin. After I dressed, I wandered out to the living room. The television was on, but Derek wasn’t watching it. He was standing at the window, staring out into the night.

I walked to the couch and sat down, making myself comfortable. I didn’t know what to say after what we’d just experienced so I said nothing at all. I’d let him take the lead.

He neither spoke nor moved for the longest time, so long in fact I wondered if he even knew I was there. It startled me when he asked, “When did you get the mark?”

“What mark?”

“The tattoo. The one on your right shoulder blade.”

“Oh. That,” I said, suddenly understanding why he’d frowned into the mirror in the bathroom; he’d seen the spot on my back. “It’s not a tattoo. I’m not sure what it is, actually. At first I thought it was grease from the garage floor, but…”

“And now?”

“Well,” I paused to think. “I’m still not sure. It keeps getting bigger and bigger and changing colors. And it’s starting to look more like…”

“Like what?” He prompted.

“Like, um, flames I guess.”

“How long ago did you first notice it?’

“I don’t know, a couple of weeks I suppose. Why?”

“When was the last time you looked at it?”

“It’s been a few days I guess. Why?” I asked again.

“The dead grass and flowers around your father’s grave,” he said.

“What about them?”

“Go look at your shoulder.”

His imperious tone rankled. But rather than taking exception and making a snide comment, I simply stood and walked back into my bedroom to do as he asked. Besides, with the way he introduced the subject, I was too curious not to go look.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, not wanting him to sneak up on me while I was topless. When I turned to get a good look at my shoulder, I saw that the flames had spread. They formed a wide base that spanned my right side, from my spine to my armpit. The flames licked up toward my neck and now, woven among them, were vines of the greenest green. In some places, their shoots wrapped and twisted around the flames as if they were choking the fire. But in other places the heart-shaped leaves on the vine disappeared into the flames, like they’d been burned up in the heat.