Read Online Soul of a Crow by Abbie Williams - Free Book Online Page B

absolutely leaped between us. I made a small, inadvertent sound, letting his shirt join the soft pile of clothing on the ground, moving my fingertips to the planes of his face. I traced along the high cheekbones that created such angles, before letting my hands slide down to caress his bare chest, firm with muscle. Once in my life, I would not have believed myself capable of speaking the words, certain the ability to experience desire had been eradicated from my soul; I whispered sincerely, “You are beautiful, Sawyer, truly.”
    He smiled, radiantly, shaking his head at me, taking us both to the bedding. Bracing just above me, he said, “You flatter me, darlin’.” A heartbeat later, he murmured, “Your skirt.”
    With my eyes, I told him what I wanted.
    â€œVery well,” he whispered, and his fingers moved to the back of my waist. He took my hips fully into his grasp, bracketing my body, before sliding just beneath me to unfasten the pair of buttons, slowly and deliberately.
    I love you so very much , he said without words, letting his thoughts penetrate mine, his eyes intent with purpose; my heart thrust with such vigor that I was lightheaded, drunk upon his presence, his touch, his eyes and his scent. He told me, I wish to bring you pleasure as you have never known.
    Yes, I responded in kind, flush and feverish with need for him. Oh Sawyer, yes .
    â€œOnce we are wed,” he whispered, softly kissing my lips, tasting just lightly with his tongue. “I know you are still hurting, Lorie-darlin’, and I won’t ask anything more than you’re ready for, you know that, even after. We will wait until you are ready.” He tucked hair behind my ear, fingertips lingering on my jaw.
    I couldn’t help but smile at these gallant words, even as my limbs trembled at his touch. I whispered, “I know.”
    â€œLift your hips,” and his voice was a throaty murmur. “So that I may remove this skirt.” He slipped the material down my legs, freeing me from it, and then said, “Come here to me.”
    â€œI love when you say that,” I whispered, as he gathered me close. His eyes asked me to explain what I meant, and so I did. “You said those words just after we kissed for the first time, in the thunderstorm.”
    He said softly, “All I want in the world is for you to come to me.”
    I bent my right leg around his hips, lifting my chin so that I could kiss the juncture of his collarbones, where his pulse throbbed hectically, matching mine. Through his trousers and my shift, our lower bodies pressed intimately close. Despite his promise, which I knew to the depths of me he meant sincerely, and would honor, he was rigid as the trunk of a hardwood tree. I swallowed and begged softly, holding his gaze in mine, “May I at least touch you?”
    At my words a tremor passed through him and he sounded strangled as he whispered, “I do not expect—”
    â€œI want to,” I implored in a whisper, interrupting him. “Please, let me touch you.”
    Without waiting for his acquiescence, I slid my left palm down his belly, flat as a knife blade, and then over his solid length. He moaned, deeply, as a shiver jolted through him, tipping his forehead to my shoulder, hand gripping my thigh. I held my touch steady against him, blood thundering through me, not daring to free him from his trousers, though instinct was demanding heatedly that I do so. My entire soul was afire.
    â€œLorie,” he groaned. There was such repressed passion in his eyes that everything within me flashed and sizzled in immediate response, as if struck with bolt lightning. “You don’t know how incredible your touch…”
    He briefly closed his eyes, as if gathering strength, and then determinedly caught my hand into his, kissing my knuckles before bringing it to his cheek. His voice shook as he whispered, “I am attempting to be a gentleman,