Neon Blue by E Frost (best big ereader .TXT) 📕

Yup. And then I’m going to fuck you. So hurry up.

He brushes by me, stripping off his sweat-darkened shirt. I close my eyes at the sensation of skin on skin. At the rush of desire that tightens my body, despite how confused and angry I am.

Stumbling, I make my way through the moonlit kitchen to my herbarium to gather the cotton cord I’ve braided and dyed myself. Winding the long, thin strands around my hand, I shiver. Red for lust, blood, strength. Black for binding. I can guess what he’s going to do with those. The gray cord doesn’t make as much sense. It’s usually associated with female power and the Goddess. I use it for spells involving the sphere of air. I’m not sure why he wants it. Maybe just because he needs three strands of cord for whatever spell he’s about to work and other colors aren’t appropriate. But that’s the cord that makes me the most nervous as I climb the stairs to my bedroom, clutching the hanks of cord to my chest.

Chapter 27

He’s already naked when I reach the bedroom. He’s opened the curtains so the room’s washed by moonlight. It gleams on his skin. Highlights the massive musculature of his chest and shoulders, the long, smooth planes of his hips and thighs. The clean salt smell of his sweat and arousal fills the room.

He stands on the far side of the bed, silhouetted, and gestures to the bedtable. “Put the cord down and take off your clothes.”

With an audible swallow, I pile the cord on the bedside table and unbutton my jeans. He watches me, eyes burning. He’s seen me before, explored my body at length, but I still feel awkward. Even with my skin washed to shades of grey by the moonlight, my body has none of the perfection of his. Where the moonlight pales his skin to dusk, mine just looks jaundiced. Each mole and freckle on my arms stands out in sharp relief, a dark imperfection against my imperfect skin.

He rounds the bed, pacing towards me, the muscles of his abdomen and thighs flexing as he moves. That what you think I see?

I shrug self-consciously, stuck in the incredibly awkward posture of pulling my jeans off.

You think I’m lookin’ at a couple of moles when you’re naked? Trust me, sweet meat, that’s not what I’m lookin’ at.

I finally get the jeans off and stand with them clutched to my chest. “I feel like an idiot, taking off my clothes in front of you.”

Why? ‘Cause of a couple moles, or ‘cause I said I love you an’ you can’t say it back?

Tears well up, hot and sudden. Burning, blurring. I can’t stand it. I drop the jeans and turn and bolt, without any idea of where I’m going, other than away from him.

He catches me before I reach the top of the stairs. Hauls me back, dragging me off my feet and pulling me hard against his body. I kick at him fruitlessly.

What the fuck are you doin’?

“Put me down!”

No. Tell me where you’re going.

“Nowhere. Away! Don’t you get it? I need to get away from you!”

He drops me to my feet and steps back. “You’re runnin’ away from me?”

I stagger, off-balance from the unexpected release. He puts out a hand to keep me from falling down the stairs, but I weave in the other direction, bump into the wall and collapse down it to slump at his feet. Cover my face with my hands.

“You took me there tonight on purpose. To screw with my head,” I whisper into my palms.

No, I took you there to dance.

“You knew Saul would be there.” I glare at him through my fingers.

He looms over me. Watching me, the neon blue of his eyes glinting in the shadow of his face. He shrugs. Yeah.

“So you did it to hurt me! And now you want me to get in bed with you like nothing’s happened!”

No, I want it fresh in your mind while I’m fuckin’ you. You think about what it was like with him an’ what it’s like with me. I ain’t gonna suffer in comparison, that much I know.

“That’s so unfair,” I hiss.

You think I’m playin’ fair? Fuck that. I’m playin’ to win. But I’m not gonna as long as you cling to these illusions you got of a perfect life.

I bury my face back in my hands. “They’re not illusions.”

Illusions, delusions. Whatever you want to call ‘em. They’re bullshit. I’ll give you what you need.

“Because you know so much about what I need,” I sneer.

He grabs me by my upper arms and hauls me up until we’re eye to eye. All I’ve done since I got off that fuckin’ wheel is learn as much as I can about you. So, yeah, I do know what you need.

He kisses me then, a sweet, soft kiss. Not angry. Not demanding. Not at all what I expect in that moment, and it completely undoes me. I reach out and wind my arms around his neck and when he lets me up to breathe, I bury my face in his throat and cry.

He holds me. Reaching up occasionally to wipe tears off my cheeks. Stroking my jaw and throat. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t invade my mind with his thoughts, just lets me cry until my tears stop and I breathe raggedly into his skin.

“C’mon, sweet meat,” he whispers into my hair. “Bed.”

I choke on the remnants of my tears. “Is that what I need right now?”

“Yeah. An’ even if it ain’t, it’s what I need right now.” He cups my face in his big, warm hand and kisses me again, a kiss that holds all the hunger he kept out of his earlier kiss. My body leaps in response, belly tightening, sparks jumping from my fingertips to sizzle along his skin. The smell of power, which always has the same musky edge as sex to me, fills the air. He holds me there for long moments, kissing