In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 22: Part Two

**Author's Note: Technically, I would classify my story as Historical Romance. Be forewarned: More suggestive/sexual language (PG13? Lol), so if that's not your cup of tea you can skip this chapter. Otherwise, carry on! :D**

^^^

Charlie wasn't fully awake.

She was floating. Her limbs were weightless, her body cushioned not on a lumpy cot, but cocooned in feather down.

The door creaked disturbing her restless slumber as she waited, breath bated, as a presence slunk into the room.

Was it her uncle? She wondered. Had he found her after all?

But, in the next moment, Charlie knew it wasn't. The presence was warm. Her body hummed, and her eyes opened. They were heavy, weights that kept her murmuring sleepily. Her limbs burned and relaxed at the same time. Danger and excitement rolled into a luscious bundle that she wanted to unwrap. Beribboned and tied.

The shadow moved.

Slowly, its steps mere soft thuds as it slipped over to her prone body. It watched in silence. The air around Charlie stirred and she shifted restlessly, her legs scraping against the wool of her blanket.

It was a man, large and silent, blocking whatever light had been bold enough to touch her.

His scrutiny left no part of her body undiscovered. He didn't miss her body's urgings and the man released a groan, harsh and grating above her.

Charlie wished all dreams could leave her so...

Desperate.

She inhaled, the man's fragrance - spice and musk and woodsmoke - making her feel pliable and soft. Her arms lifted to him - an entreaty for him to not leave her wanting.

The mattress dipped and her body rolled into him. He was a warm obstacle she found herself burying into. Her heavy lidded eyes peered open, gray eyes burning through her.

Slowly, as if unsure of his acceptance, her Greyson's hand came up to cup her cheek.

Charlie shuddered, the callused skin of his thumb scraping along her cheekbone, snagging on her skin as if the very thought that he would release his touch was inconceivable.

His body was its own furnace and she shifted closer, uncaring if sweat dripped down her spine or if, in fact, he was nothing more than an inferno come to rake her body over the coals.

She didn't care.

His shadowy bulk hovered over her as his other hand traced down the curve of her shoulder, following the lines of her body. His touch passed so closely to her breast that she sighed - in relief and in disappointment - that it hadn't traveled a bit further, testing the weight within his large hands.

A soft breath puffed on her temple as his lips pressed lightly to the sensitive skin there. She shivered, her eyes drifted upwards as he pulled back. All the while, his hand continued down her arm, twisting with her fingers before settling on her hip and squeezing.

She gasped, her lips opening.

It was the invitation her dream earl had been waiting for. He pushed on the indent in her chin and her lips parted voluntarily.

In a trance, Charlie watched Greyson's head lower. A strand of his brown hair, appearing inky black in the low light, fell over his forehead and onto his brow. It covered one stormy eye, the moonlight behind him casting him in a murky shadow that had blood pulsing to her core.