Page 40

“I just want to feel good for a minute. Just one minute without feeling guilty.”

Can’t I feel good for just a moment? Even by a person I should fear, someone who has the power to hurt me or share me with his alpha sibling, as I suspect he’s done before.

He shifts. “Okay, what do you want me to do? Nothing you’re doing is wrong right now, baby.”

“Touch me,” I whisper.

He knows what I mean and wastes no time moving his fingers to my nipples and cupping my breasts. He rubs and tickles them and makes my skin tingle all over.

“Damn, baby.” Even in the dark, I can sense the smile on his face. “These are perfect.” His big hands still don’t fully grasp them.

I lose myself in the softness of him, the way he explores every inch, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of them. It feels good—hotter than the soft flame burning in front of me, and especially in contrast to the cold, hard terrain around us. My breath lengthens as I shift even closer to him.

He pulls his hand down to rest on my stomach.

“Why did you stop?” I breathe.

“You said one minute.”

In just a single minute, everything horrible in my mind slipped away. Who Maison really is, or who Nigel claims he is, or where we are going to sleep tomorrow night, or the horrors of the past couple of days. I dare to move my hand and feel his hard body next to mine. Really feel him, his strength and the lines of his body.

“What next, London King?” he murmurs. I feel the warmth beneath his sweatpants press hard into my abdomen as I try to move as close to him as I can.

I lean up and nuzzle my lips into his, and he flinches. My heart races and skips a beat as I pull back.

Fuck.

Didn’t he want to kiss me? He gave me all the signs… I pull my hands off him and squeeze my eyes shut. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

He pulls my chin up to face him and his pupils flare. “Oh, hell yeah, you should have.”

He dives in, covering my mouth with his, nibbling on my bottom lip. I let out a muffled moan and enjoy his taste. His mouth tastes as good as he looks. We kiss and nibble on each other for a few minutes, while he continues to explore my chest and I run my fingers through his hair. I knew he’d be good at this, but he is beyond talented.

He shifts his hips into me, enough where it feels like the fire beside us it right inside my belly. “I like kissing you, London,” he murmurs. “I haven’t kissed anyone since—”

I tense and pull away from him before he can finish the sentence. The tightening in my chest consumes me and a twinge of regret washes over me. He hasn’t kissed anyone since Olivia. That was well over a year ago… Not even Serena? I always think of Olivia as being with Micah, but she was technically Maison’s girlfriend.

His eyes etch in concern. “What are you thinking about, baby?”

I’m thinking about Micah, but I don’t want him to know that. What would he think if he saw us like this? I’m also thinking about that spear Micah was carving before we left, and why he was even making a spear to begin with. Then I remember where we are.

“Maison… we are going to die out here, aren’t we?

His fingers find my brow line as a cool breeze washes over us and the first rays of sun streak on the horizon. “I’m not going to let you die, baby. Micah won’t let you die, either.”

Micah. I really don’t want to keep thinking about him right now.

Even though he says he doesn’t want to talk about Micah, he brings it back to him constantly. I rest my head on his chest, too tired to fight it.

Eventually I ask him, “How does Micah know so much about survival?”

His heart picks up by thread, a flutter, but I feel it. He holds me for a few minutes, watching the little rays of sunlight streak over pink clouds that hover over the mountains.

Instead of saying anything, he shifts and pulls his arm out of his sweater. So quiet, just the sound of his heartbeat and a soft lap of water hitting rocks. He tugs my hand over my shoulder and up around the curve of his back.

“I want you to feel this,” he whispers and moves my hand up and down his back. Beneath a layer of skin is a scar, long and deep. I catch my breath at how big it is, and what terrible thing must have happened to him to get a scar this big. I trace my finger over it and realize it runs down the entire length of his muscles.

“What happened?” I ask him. His heart is beating fast now, much faster than mine.