A Storm of Flames and Deceit

31. Like We'll Never Have Sex

Nephele

We arrive back at the treehouse in inefficient steps, stopping every five feet to share a kiss. I only had a single glass of wine tonight, but I can feel myself getting drunk off the affection as we stumble into his bedroom.

I freeze in the doorway at what I see when we enter, him slowing behind me, gently gripping my hips as I take his handiwork in.

The comforter was smattered in lavender cloves and marigold flowers, perfuming the air in their floral scent, complimented by what seems to be vanilla. It's then I realize that all across the room, white sticks of wax burn at Eris' command.

I didn't expect flower pedals and vanilla scented candles, I had told him only yesterday.

"This doesn't mean I expect anything from you," he murmurs, kissing my cheek. "Say the word, and this all disappears and we can do anything else tonight."

I'm not sure I'm breathing, excitement seizing me in seemingly equal measure with the anxiety.

"You're in charge," he kisses down my throat. "It's anything you want tonight."

"Anything?" I murmur, my eyes fluttering shut, my stomach twisting in nerves.

"Anything you want from me," he replies softly, his fingers tightening across my abdomen. "It's all yours from now on."

I shiver, want dragging down my body. No, not want. The feeling closer resembled need. "I need you," I reply hazily, turning so I can meet his gaze. "I can't wait any longer. I need you, Eris."

"Thank the cauldron," he mutters under his breath, smiling as he slides his fingers down my waist. "I'm not sure if I could've made myself wait any longer."

I love him for saying that, for cracking a joke when I'm also obviously nervous, for making me smile. I rake my fingers through his hair, needing to feel him, needing him closer, giving him a tug to my lips.

He complies, kissing me with profound gentleness. I sigh into his mouth arching my back beneath his touch as my hands slide down his shirt, fumbling with his buttons. My fingers are shaky, but I manage to get his shirt off, him tossing it across the room as we back even closer to the bed.

"Tell me if you want to stop," he murmurs in between kisses, his mouth pulling and tugging at mine. No part of me wants him to stop. No, if anything, my confliction lies in what bit of me that would be content to revel in this divine gentleness for the rest of my days and the bit that wishes he'd go on and fuck me already.

I nod warmly as his mouth slides to my jaw, his fingers sliding to the buttons of my dress. He takes his care with the fastenings giving me all the time in the world to push him away, but my mind is set. I let the dress slip off of my body and back off of him, laying against the pillows.

I feel the tickle of the flowers, the intermingle of their scents as he looks me over, raising an eyebrow. "Really?" He looks me up and down again, my matching set of white lace, sickeningly symbolic. In my defense, I had no idea this was going to happen tonight.

"What?" I shrug sheepishly. "I wanted to make you feel real guilty about it."

He smirks, finally walking towards the bed, crawling on top of me. "I never feel guilty, Sweetheart. Especially about doing things I love," he tilts his head, running a teasing finger across the hem of my panties. My back arches of his volition, my thighs feeling a bit restless with him kneeled between them. "I would say this applies."

I reach up to his abdomen impatiently, deciding that his teasing is entirely unfair. Deciding he needs a taste of his own medicine. "So chatty now," I taunt, unbuckling his belt slowly. I can already see him straining against the black fabric of his slacks, begging to break free. "You nervous?"