Grave Decisions by Ivy Asher Page 0,96

forward this relationship, whatever this damn thing is between us. If you don’t want me, then just stop with the mixed signals, because I can’t take it,” I say, eyes burnin’. “But if you meant that mate thing, then don’t do this. Don’t snap at me like that when all I’m tryin’ to do is make you feel better. We sure as hell ain’t goin’ straight to fightin’ and arguin’, without havin’ visited the good things first, like sex, and intimacy, and cuddlin’, and, and…”

I struggle to think of other fun things that couples do, but I come up blank. Damn, I should’ve stewed longer. I come up with the best arguments when I can stew in the shower for an adequate amount of time.

“Whatever. You know what I mean,” I tell him dismissively with a wave of my hand. “Point is, don’t snap at me because you’re tryin’ to stay emotionally and physically distant. Don’t take your anger out on me because you were worried about me. I’m fine, so you can just stop pitchin’ a hissy fit, and I don’t know, maybe appreciate the damn fact that I’m standin’ here naked!” I finish angrily. “And I swear to all that is holy, if you tell me I’m havin’ an itch and tuck me in bed, I will castrate you in your sleep.”

Flint’s eyes narrow slightly, and my chest heaves in aroused anger, because dammit, I can’t help bein’ affected by him, and it pisses me off that he can. But then, in the next breath, I’m up and over his shoulder and he’s carryin’ me drippin’ wet out of the bathroom.

“Really?” I squeal, my hands slappin’ against his bare back. “You went full caveman, just like that, when I’m tryin’ to talk? I’m not even the one who said mate first! You did! Twice. If you didn’t want me to ask about it, you shouldn’t have called me your mate in front of everyone, but you did, so we are gonna talk about it, dammit!” I scold as he carries my naked ass into the room.

For some reason, I picture him puttin’ me in the stocks so he can keep me pinned in place while dodgin’ even more uncomfortable questions while starin’ at my ass. I wonder whether this place would have some stocks just lyin’ around, but it looks medieval enough, so I don’t rule it out.

I’m flipped over Flint’s shoulder, and I squeal in surprise as I bounce on a very comfortable mattress. Guess I called the whole stocks thing wrong.

“What are you doin’?” I ask, sittin’ up on my elbows to glare at Flint where he stands at the foot of the bed. I don’t cover my nakedness, because I want him to look. I want him to break. I want to get through the hard walls of this marbled male and get to the center of what we have between us, because I can’t bear to be rejected again.

Breathin’ hard, Flint leans down, fists against the footboard as his face inches closer. Wet and shirtless, water drips from his black hair down the planes of his chest, slippin’ down the crevices of his musculature until finally soakin’ into the waistband of his jeans.

When he makes a low noise in his throat, my eyes flick back up to his face. “What am I doing?” he repeats in a low growl. “I’m making sure we do the fun stuff like sex, and intimacy, and cuddling, and shit,” he announces, and then those strong hands of his go down to the button of his pants.

I gulp, my eyes widenin’ at the implications of what he just said. “Oh. Well...okay then,” I answer breathlessly, but I can’t take my eyes off his hands as he pushes the pants off his hips in one fluid movement.

I’m gettin’ water all over the bed, which I should feel bad about, but all I can focus on is Flint’s naked body as he stands there proudly, cock as stiff as a rod.

Hot damn.

It’s one thing to hear him call me his mate, and it’s another to see the physical evidence that he’s not as unfazed by me as I thought he was. I send a silent thank you to the Heavens and then to Hell, just in case, as Flint prowls onto the bed and crawls up my body.

His cool skin caresses my chest, and his pecs skim my peaked breasts as he closes the distance between us. I try not to

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