Page 33 of Fractured
It feels so warm. My stomach is finally full and settled; I snuggle deeper into the warm couch and nuzzle the soft silk under my cheek.
It smells like pudding, like vanilla, no, … wait, maybe more like butterscotch pudding.Mmmm! I rub my nose closer and breathe deeply. I love butterscotch pudding, ice cold right out of the bowl.
Fingers trail up my face, tenderly across my brow, trailing down my cheek to run ever so softly across my lip. I lick my lips at the tickle, and it runs back again. I bite my lower lip and shake my head to the side, trying to dispel the tingles.
My cheek rubs against a hard stomach covered in soft silk, and the button from his shirt catches in my hair. I freeze and I’m instantly awake.
Oh my god, oh sweet heavens, that’s not my pillow, I am not dreaming about pudding. I fell asleep and woke up on Alexander’s lap. How the fuck did that happen?
I put my hand up to pull my hair free and I open my eyes, trying to adjust to the dim light. I can see a pair of large knees spread wide. One large tanned hand with a platinum band rests on one knee as the other holds my shoulder, still stopping my struggles.
“Shhhh, let me free your hair.” I freeze, my head resting on his lap, as he tries to free my braid from his buttons.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to remove your veil, Isabella. You are well and truly caught in my shirt.” I nod as much as my head will allow and put my head down to rest on his strong thigh.
He works slowly but gently, tugging the pins out. The veil is finally free as he throws it on the floor, but he keeps pulling the pins and pearls from my hair, tossing them over my head to bounce on the coffee table. He takes the tail end of my braid and holds it tight as he pulls off the elastic, trying not to pull out my hair.
“Sit up.” His voice is deep and husky as he taps my shoulder. The couch cushion dips as I lean up on my hands beside hiship. Alexander’s features are a contrast of dark and light, as the twinkling lights from the garden highlight only half of his face.
“Stay still.” He breathes.
His eyes bore into mine, never straying as he takes his hands and pulls the braid apart, finally running his fingers through the long length of my hair from the scalp to the tips, letting it tumble around me, partially hiding my face.
I sit back on my knees, my butt resting on the heels of my feet as I sweep a mass of hair out of my eyes. I look at the garden and back at him.
“What time is it?” My voice is shaky, and he reaches for the water I left on the coffee table, handing it to me. I carefully take the bottle and have a sip.
He looks at his watch. “It’s nine forty-five.” Those dark gray eyes turn back to me and he smiles, making those dimples pop out. “You have two more hours till you can hate me again.”
I sigh. I don’t dislike him, but I also don’t hate him. I slouched my shoulders and turned back to the window, holding the warm water bottle in my hands. What should I tell this guy? How do we keep acting like this has even a slight chance of working?
He reaches out and tucks the hair hiding my face behind my ear, holding my cheek in his warm hand.
“Don’t Isabella, don’t shut down. I get two more hours, even if you won’t talk to me, even if we just sit here in the dark watching the lights of the garden. Please, just give me that, at least.”
When I look back at him, he smiles and runs his finger along my top lip again to tickle it. When I lick my lips, his eyes move to follow the tip of my tongue. Then he turns those gray eyesback to mine, and we just sit there, staring into each other’s eyes as shadows dance across his face in the dim light.
The war going on in my head is so loud that it drowns out his heavy breathing and the fast pace of my beating heart. I have every reason in the world to deny this man any attention, wedding night or not. But how can I refuse him when he only wants to be close to me and spend time with me, if only for a few hours?
I run my finger across his thick lower lip. What would it hurt if I gave in to my impulse for a split second? To allow myself the pleasure of his touch and his warmth for just a little while? I know the outcome will be the same. It will end with his anger and rage. But he can’t hurt me anymore. There is nothing left he can destroy.
I nod finally, and my hair falls around me again. He puts both his hands in my hair, drawing it away from my face. He leans in closer and cups my face.
“I need to kiss you. Just one more time while we have a truce between us.”
I hold my breath as he moves closer, and his lips gently touch mine. He peppers my lips with light kisses, the spot between my nose and upper lip, the side of my mouth. Then he moves back, looking me in the eye. I study his face, so soft, without anger or agitation.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He growls and tilts my head, slanting his mouth over mine, his tongue sweeping the seam of my lips, wanting them to open. I grab his large wrist to steady myself, and I feel the coarse hair on his arm under my hand as I grip him tightly.
Licking the seam of my mouth once more, I open and he strokes my tongue with his and my insides melt. I can feel the heat rush through my body and my core tightens as he suckson my upper lip, hard. He pulls back, tugging it gently as he lets it go.
“I fucken love that lip of yours. I want to bite it every time I see you sucking on it.”
He nips it one more time, then his mouth descends on mine in a fury of passion, nipping, sucking, kissing every which way. His hands leave my face and he wraps them around my waist, tugging me closer.
“Come here.” He deposits me on his lap, making me spread my thighs on the outside of his as my butt settles into his lap. He runs a hand up my back as he grips a handful of my hair, tugging my head back and exposing my throat. His other arm snakes around me, holding me tight to his chest.
