Another drag of his thumb against that bottom lip. “You look good against that wall, but you’re going to look even better pinned up against it while I fuck you.”
“Great goddess,” I murmur, flooded with a newfound throb.
“It’s nearly dusk.”
My eyes flit over to the balcony door, its glass frosted with little veins of freeze hanging from every corner. Outside, the light’s gone murky, the gray giving way to obscurity.
“So it is.”
As if he can’t hold back anymore, Slade unfurls from the chair and straightens. His power coils around him, reaching out in invisible fingers to stroke against my skin. My breath catches, and once again, there’s no nausea or sense of wrongness. Instead, his magic seems to blow around me in an unmoving breeze.
Like a caged predator, Slade goes to the glass doors of the balcony and then grins. “You’re very nearly mine now.”
My teeth trap my bottom lip in anticipation, everything in me nearly trembling beneath the wait. When he reaches for the top button on his black shirt, my eyes go wide, and even my ribbons go still.
At seeing my expression, he pauses. “I can leave it on, if you prefer.”
For a moment, my brows lower in a frown of confusion, but then it dawns on me. My gaze traces over the shifting stems along his skin, the reaching ends peeking above his collar.
“Don’t you dare,” I tell him. If he thinks I don’t want to see him, he’s wrong. I’m not put off by those strange roots beneath his pale skin. If anything, they make me want to run my fingers over each and every one.
My reply earns me a roguish grin, but I don’t miss the flash of relief in his expression. He undresses slowly, and with each button that comes undone, my heart seems to beat harder.
I saw him shirtless in the fight circle, but that was when he was in his Rip form, and great Divine, was he ripped. But when Slade shrugs out of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, my breath catches, because…
“You’re beautiful.”
A surprised laugh escapes him, but I’m not kidding. Every inch of him is sculpted to perfection. My attention is latched onto his body, and I’m unable to look away.
Those intrinsic threads of his power seem to sprout from his chest, right at the chiseled line below his pecs. They’re thick at the bottom and a perfect mirror image on both sides of his chest and neck as they root upward, like they’re searching for a sun. They’re thinnest right where they end at the edge of his jaw, barely bigger than a needle, yet as thick as my finger at the base.
If it weren’t for the fact that they move ever so slightly, like a field of wheat in a breeze, I’d think they were tattooed onto his pale skin. I find myself aching to let my lips drag over them, to taste them as they bend.
Slade stands there, letting me drink him in, while his power pools around him. My gaze slips down to see his perfectly cut abs, the V that disappears below his pelvis. His arms hang at his sides, muscles bulging, the strong veins down his forearms enough to make my mouth water.
When I’m finally able to lift my eyes back up to his face, I realize I’ve taken two steps closer to him, as if drawn to him, needing to close the space between us.
“I’d touch you if it wouldn’t turn you solid,” I admit.
“One part of me is plenty solid already,” he says with a devilish smirk.
My face heats, and Slade begins to pace in front of me like a wild animal waiting for the bars of time to drop away. He kicks off his shoes, and the impatient energy he’s now giving off is mixing with the rampancy of his frenetic power, causing my nerves to jump with edginess.
His hands drop to the button of his pants, and my eyes are glued to the movement. But instead of popping it open and showing me the rest of him, he pauses, and I actually whimper. Out loud.
Slade chuckles at me, now being just as much the tease as I was before. “Impatient, Goldfinch?” he asks, enjoying himself way too much.
I open my mouth to reply, but the words die on my tongue because right then, I feel it.
The telltale prickle that travels along my exposed skin, making chills scatter like tossed dice. I look toward the glass of the door, the dying gray light breathing out with the last exhale of day.
Finally, I tug off my gloves, letting them drop like a weight on the ground, more indicative than any bell toll. The moment my hands are bare, I reach back and touch the wall, and Slade freezes when he sees my bare skin collide with it…and no gold comes.
“Thank fuck.” In five long strides, he demolishes the space between us. He’s suddenly there, gripping me by the waist, hard lips fused to mine, and finally, we combust.