Page 22 of Fated By Fire
He looms over me, his presence overwhelming, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from retreating.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“You’re a terrible liar, Jessica.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I… I…”
Shit. Shit. Shit!
I’ve always been able to think on my feet. But this man makes my head spin.
“You’ve been lying since the moment you walked through those doors,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “What are you up to?”
I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. My mind is a blank slate, every excuse I’d rehearsed evaporating like smoke.
Caleb reaches out, his hand grazing my arm, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Tell me the truth,” he says softly.
“I…” My voice cracks, and I try again. “I’m just a junior archivist, Mr. Craven. Seriously. I got lost.”
His eyes darken, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s towering over me, tall, radiating a strange heat that seems to soak into my pores.
My God, he’s tall.
“Lost…?” His eyes are on my lips. I swallow hard.
“Yes,” I whisper, struggling desperately to find breath.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us seems to crackle as if the room itself is waiting for something. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and smoldering, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze like fingertips, warm and insistent, sliding over my skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
My pulse quickens, a wild, erratic rhythm that echoes in my ears, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of space between us—close enough to feel the heat of his body, yet too far to sate the sudden, inexplicable ache that blooms deep within me.
What the hell is happening?
This isn’t me. I don’t lose my mind around men. But this man…
Without warning, he moves. It’s swift, deliberate, and inescapable. One moment, there’s distance, and the next, there’s none. His hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and his lips crash into mine with a hunger that steals my breath. The kiss is nothing like the one in the bar—no softness, no hesitation, only fire and need. It’s raw, intense, and utterly consuming, as if he’s determined to brand every part of me with this moment.
His other hand grips my waist, fingers digging into the curve of my hip, and he pulls me flush against him, erasing any remaining space between us. I gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the heat of his kiss, my breath leaving me in a rush. My body reacts on instinct, arching into him, seeking more until I feel like I’m drowning.
My hands move to his hair, tangling in the silky strands. It’s thick, softer than I’d expected; I’d imagined it would be like the rest of him… hard. I pull him closer, deeper, as if I can merge us into one. His lips are firm, demanding, and when my mouth parts against his, he surges in, claiming it with a fervor that leaves me dizzy.
The world around us dissolves, blending into a blur of sensation. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, the way he fills every one of my senses. His scent envelops me, warm and masculine, with a hint of something earthy that makes my head swim. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of something sweet and sharp that I can’t get enough of. His breath mingles with mine, hot and ragged, and I can feel the rapid thud of his heart where his chest presses against mine.
My skin seems to ignite wherever he touches me, sparks skittering along my nerves, setting me alight. His hand on mywaist slides lower, pulling me even closer, and I can feel the hard line of his body against mine, a silent promise of more. My legs tremble, barely able to hold me upright, and I cling to him, anchoring myself in the storm of sensations he’s unleashed.
The kiss deepens, grows hungrier, more desperate until I’m not sure where he ends, and I begin. It’s terrifying, this loss of control, this surrender to something I can’t name, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Every fiber of my being is alive, on fire, yearning for more of him, more of this. The intensity of it aches, a sweet, unbearable pressure that I never want to let go of.
The sound of the door opening snaps me back to reality, and I jerk away, my chest heaving. Dorian stands in the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his tone light but edged with something… sharper.
Caleb steps back abruptly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burn with a heat that makes my knees weak.
“No,” he rasps. “We were just finishing.”
I stare at him, my head whirling, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
