Read Online Seduce (Vampire Erotic Theatre Romance Series #3) by Felicity Heaton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Felicity Heaton
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pushing at his shirt so it fell away from his shoulders at the same time as he unhooked her bra and cast it aside. She tugged each sleeve off his arms and opened her eyes, intent on kissing her way across his shoulder and running her fingers over his muscled arms, and paused.
The scars continued on his arms, thick and pronounced, some of them so deep that they had pulled the muscle into a strange distorted shape. Sera went to touch one. Antoine growled and pulled away, scooped his shirt off the floor and put it back on, covering his body.
Shielding himself from her inquisitive eyes.
“Antoine,” she whispered, as softly as she could, trying to show him that she hadn’t intended to question him about the scars again and that he didn’t need to hide them from her.
He turned his back on her and hung his head.
“Not quite what you thought I would look like?” he bit out on a dark snarl. “I bet you imagined me perfect, skin as flawless as your own, beautiful... not hideous.”
That had her feet moving. She came up behind him and slowly placed her hands on his shoulders so she didn’t startle him. She swept her palms over them, feeling their strength, and then back again, to his neck. There, she slipped her hands into his collar and started to lower his silver-grey shirt again, revealing inch after inch of scars on his back. He tensed.
Sera tiptoed and kissed each scar, from the ones that were barely a scratch to the ones that had damaged muscle irreparably. He didn’t pull away. He remained motionless, rigid, his breathing shallow and controlled. When her hands reached his, she tugged the cuffs of his shirt over them and then removed it completely. She tossed it away from them, onto one of the red velvet sofas that were part of the stage set, so he couldn’t reach for it and hide from her again.
He began to relax as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, worshipping him, hoping to make him see that she thought he was beautiful, not hideous. While she might have imagined flawless perfection as he had said, this revelation wasn’t one that lessened the ferocity of her attraction to him. Each scar was a story that she wanted to know, a memory that she wanted to hear so she could take away the pain he associated with it and could learn to love himself again.
She had been wrong about him.
He didn’t love himself at all.
Sera slipped her arms under his and settled her hands on his chest at the same time as she rested her cheek against his strong back. She closed her eyes, her bare torso pressed against his cool skin, and held him in silence, hoping that he could feel every emotion that he stirred in her. He was old and powerful enough to sense such things without skin contact. With it, he should be able to read her clearly. He should be able to feel that she still desired him, that she wished she could ease his pain and make him feel loved and beautiful. She ached for him.
Antoine shifted, his right hand settling over hers. She expected him to remove it from his chest but he held it there, pressed against him. He was taking the comfort she was offering. It was a start. Much better than the rejection she had anticipated at least.
She slipped her hands down from his chest to settle on his waist and began to kiss his back again, working her way around him and paying close attention to the deepest scar that had deformed the biceps and deltoid of his left arm. When she reached the groove between the hard slabs of his pectorals, she rested her lips there, feeling his heart beating steadily against them. She breathed him in, liking the subtle fragrance of his strong blood that laced his cologne.
He drew in a deep breath. “Sera.”
Sera lifted her head and met his ice-blue gaze. She had never seen it so soft, or him so vulnerable. Was this what awaited her on the other side of his armour? She was under no illusion that this brief glimpse of the other side would last longer than a few seconds. He was already
The scars continued on his arms, thick and pronounced, some of them so deep that they had pulled the muscle into a strange distorted shape. Sera went to touch one. Antoine growled and pulled away, scooped his shirt off the floor and put it back on, covering his body.
Shielding himself from her inquisitive eyes.
“Antoine,” she whispered, as softly as she could, trying to show him that she hadn’t intended to question him about the scars again and that he didn’t need to hide them from her.
He turned his back on her and hung his head.
“Not quite what you thought I would look like?” he bit out on a dark snarl. “I bet you imagined me perfect, skin as flawless as your own, beautiful... not hideous.”
That had her feet moving. She came up behind him and slowly placed her hands on his shoulders so she didn’t startle him. She swept her palms over them, feeling their strength, and then back again, to his neck. There, she slipped her hands into his collar and started to lower his silver-grey shirt again, revealing inch after inch of scars on his back. He tensed.
Sera tiptoed and kissed each scar, from the ones that were barely a scratch to the ones that had damaged muscle irreparably. He didn’t pull away. He remained motionless, rigid, his breathing shallow and controlled. When her hands reached his, she tugged the cuffs of his shirt over them and then removed it completely. She tossed it away from them, onto one of the red velvet sofas that were part of the stage set, so he couldn’t reach for it and hide from her again.
He began to relax as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, worshipping him, hoping to make him see that she thought he was beautiful, not hideous. While she might have imagined flawless perfection as he had said, this revelation wasn’t one that lessened the ferocity of her attraction to him. Each scar was a story that she wanted to know, a memory that she wanted to hear so she could take away the pain he associated with it and could learn to love himself again.
She had been wrong about him.
He didn’t love himself at all.
Sera slipped her arms under his and settled her hands on his chest at the same time as she rested her cheek against his strong back. She closed her eyes, her bare torso pressed against his cool skin, and held him in silence, hoping that he could feel every emotion that he stirred in her. He was old and powerful enough to sense such things without skin contact. With it, he should be able to read her clearly. He should be able to feel that she still desired him, that she wished she could ease his pain and make him feel loved and beautiful. She ached for him.
Antoine shifted, his right hand settling over hers. She expected him to remove it from his chest but he held it there, pressed against him. He was taking the comfort she was offering. It was a start. Much better than the rejection she had anticipated at least.
She slipped her hands down from his chest to settle on his waist and began to kiss his back again, working her way around him and paying close attention to the deepest scar that had deformed the biceps and deltoid of his left arm. When she reached the groove between the hard slabs of his pectorals, she rested her lips there, feeling his heart beating steadily against them. She breathed him in, liking the subtle fragrance of his strong blood that laced his cologne.
He drew in a deep breath. “Sera.”
Sera lifted her head and met his ice-blue gaze. She had never seen it so soft, or him so vulnerable. Was this what awaited her on the other side of his armour? She was under no illusion that this brief glimpse of the other side would last longer than a few seconds. He was already
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