Read Online The Lost Soul (666 Park Avenue 3) by Gabriella Pierce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gabriella Pierce
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giving her the opportunity to gracefully break away, but that was the furthest thing from her mind, and she pursued him with her mouth, then her hands, then her body.
Her fingers found the hem of his thin T-shirt and sent it flying away from them. It landed with a whisper on an arm of the chair, dangling limply like a grey ghost. Apparently feeling that he had put enough of a good-faith effort into being restrained, Malcolm sent her own clothes sailing after his shirt piece by piece, pausing only to kiss the newly exposed bits of her flesh like a drowning man straining toward air.
Everywhere his mouth or hands went, Jane could feel tiny sparks of pleasure bursting in her bloodstream, as if some sort of electromagnetism were drawing them together.
Magic,
she thought wryly,
the best kind of chemistry there is
. But it felt different, somehow, from her dark, desperate connection with André or the shivery current that used to draw her toward Harris.
It’s not all the same,
she realized. There had always been something between the two of them, but after everything that had happened, she had cynically assumed it was just good looks and the whisper of magic. And it was true that her blood knew Malcolm’s – she could feel it whenever he was near – but now her body and her heart did as well, and the three combined into an attraction that couldn’t be reduced to any kind of simple explanation.
The bed seemed impossibly complicated to reach, so instead she just hitched herself forward, using the waistband of his pants as leverage and conveniently pulling them off in the process. Malcolm wrapped strong arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and she wrapped her legs around his and slid herself onto him. For a moment they sat that way: locked together with their faces just millimeters apart, touching in nearly every possible way. Then Jane began to move, propelled by her thighs with eager support from Malcolm’s arms, rocking along the length of him and back again until they both gasped together, stifling their cries with more kisses.
Finally, spent, Jane let her head fall onto his shoulder. Her hair spilled down over his muscular back, shining like molten silver in the lamplight. Disentangling carefully so as to stay as close together as possible, they rearranged their limbs just enough to fall asleep on the rug where they lay.
Chapter Nine
S UNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the damask curtains, but Jane knew immediately that that was not what had woken her up. A soft buzzing sounded somewhere off to her left. She jerked her body up to sitting and rocked onto her toes, trying to ignore the distraction of Malcolm’s naked sleeping form as she attempted to take stock of where her clothes had landed the night before. The buzzing noise came again and she followed it across the room to where her bag lay underneath her crumpled Paige jeans and oversized Theory sweater. She fumbled inside with one hand and pulled on her sweater with the other, and somehow managed to flip open the rose-gold phone on the fourth ring while stepping out of Malcolm’s room fully – if not at all neatly – dressed.
The Vertu phone – Ella’s phone,
she realized belatedly, wincing at her oversight. She hadn’t been sure what to do with it once Ella didn’t exist anymore. It was far too beautiful to just discard, but she had been letting all its calls go to voicemail and had intended to keep doing so indefinitely. The number on its screen was an unfamiliar one from the Manhattan area code; Jane guessed that she would hear André’s voice on the other end of the line, growling with bad news. She took a last, longing glance toward Malcolm, but only one outstretched hand was visible from the hallway. ‘Hello?’ she said quietly, moving toward her own room for good measure. The rising sun hadn’t reached the skylights yet, and the floorboards were chilly, but Jane consoled herself that at least they weren’t creaking and giving her retreat
Her fingers found the hem of his thin T-shirt and sent it flying away from them. It landed with a whisper on an arm of the chair, dangling limply like a grey ghost. Apparently feeling that he had put enough of a good-faith effort into being restrained, Malcolm sent her own clothes sailing after his shirt piece by piece, pausing only to kiss the newly exposed bits of her flesh like a drowning man straining toward air.
Everywhere his mouth or hands went, Jane could feel tiny sparks of pleasure bursting in her bloodstream, as if some sort of electromagnetism were drawing them together.
Magic,
she thought wryly,
the best kind of chemistry there is
. But it felt different, somehow, from her dark, desperate connection with André or the shivery current that used to draw her toward Harris.
It’s not all the same,
she realized. There had always been something between the two of them, but after everything that had happened, she had cynically assumed it was just good looks and the whisper of magic. And it was true that her blood knew Malcolm’s – she could feel it whenever he was near – but now her body and her heart did as well, and the three combined into an attraction that couldn’t be reduced to any kind of simple explanation.
The bed seemed impossibly complicated to reach, so instead she just hitched herself forward, using the waistband of his pants as leverage and conveniently pulling them off in the process. Malcolm wrapped strong arms around her waist, pulling her closer, and she wrapped her legs around his and slid herself onto him. For a moment they sat that way: locked together with their faces just millimeters apart, touching in nearly every possible way. Then Jane began to move, propelled by her thighs with eager support from Malcolm’s arms, rocking along the length of him and back again until they both gasped together, stifling their cries with more kisses.
Finally, spent, Jane let her head fall onto his shoulder. Her hair spilled down over his muscular back, shining like molten silver in the lamplight. Disentangling carefully so as to stay as close together as possible, they rearranged their limbs just enough to fall asleep on the rug where they lay.
Chapter Nine
S UNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the damask curtains, but Jane knew immediately that that was not what had woken her up. A soft buzzing sounded somewhere off to her left. She jerked her body up to sitting and rocked onto her toes, trying to ignore the distraction of Malcolm’s naked sleeping form as she attempted to take stock of where her clothes had landed the night before. The buzzing noise came again and she followed it across the room to where her bag lay underneath her crumpled Paige jeans and oversized Theory sweater. She fumbled inside with one hand and pulled on her sweater with the other, and somehow managed to flip open the rose-gold phone on the fourth ring while stepping out of Malcolm’s room fully – if not at all neatly – dressed.
The Vertu phone – Ella’s phone,
she realized belatedly, wincing at her oversight. She hadn’t been sure what to do with it once Ella didn’t exist anymore. It was far too beautiful to just discard, but she had been letting all its calls go to voicemail and had intended to keep doing so indefinitely. The number on its screen was an unfamiliar one from the Manhattan area code; Jane guessed that she would hear André’s voice on the other end of the line, growling with bad news. She took a last, longing glance toward Malcolm, but only one outstretched hand was visible from the hallway. ‘Hello?’ she said quietly, moving toward her own room for good measure. The rising sun hadn’t reached the skylights yet, and the floorboards were chilly, but Jane consoled herself that at least they weren’t creaking and giving her retreat
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