RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,100
me by the tongue. I did avoid answering the question he posed to me, yes, but I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to reply. Carina would tell me to run like the wind, get away from this as quickly as possible and thank my lucky stars that I escaped unscathed. But, then again, Wren was right. I haven’t seen him do anything unforgiveable since I arrived at Wolf Hall. I have no reason to think he’d do anything to hurt me.
“You asked me to trust you,” I whisper, afraid of the words even as I’m saying them. “And I’ve been scared to. I know that wanting to be with you, in whatever capacity, is probably the stupidest thing I can possibly do, Wren. But I do. I do want you, and…the answer’s no. I don’t want you to be done with me. I feel like there could be…”
“More,” Wren supplies. “A lot more. Between us.”
“Yes.”
The points where my body is making contact with his—my knee, my thigh, my hip, my shoulder—all feel like they’re pressed up against a vat of boiling water, and that vat has been growing gradually hotter and hotter as I’ve been sitting here, so slowly that I haven’t noticed that it’s too, too hot until the contact is suddenly scalding me. I want to pull away, but Wren angles his head, looking sideways at me, and I’m staked to the spot, unable to move a muscle. “I can’t promise I’m not gonna hurt you, Little E. But I can promise that, if I do, it won’t be on purpose. I can also promise that I’ll do everything in my power not to.” He swallows thickly, his throat bobbing. “Do you think that might be enough?”
The air’s so laden with tension that it feels syrupy as it trickles down into my lungs. His muscles lock up, his shoulders rising a fraction as he waits for my answer. Aware of how idiotic this whole thing is, I slowly nod my head.
Wren’s eyes come alive. “Thank fuck for that.” Twisting, he grabs me, holding my face in his hands, and his mouth is on mine before I can even react. Heat roars up from the very soles of my feet, flooding my body until it’s burning at the very crown of my head, and nothing, nothing feels stable anymore. The bed tilts, the floor shifts, my mind capsizes, and I’m moving, scrambling to get closer, climbing into his lap like some wild animal, trying to wrap myself around him.
This is no slow burn. We’ve already done our little dance, our back and forth with each other over the past few weeks more than enough foreplay for either of us. His tongue drives past my lips, tangling with my own, tasting me, licking me, exploring my mouth with a frantic urgency that has me panting and whimpering like a needy fucking dog. Wren’s hands move to the small of my back, pulling me to him, and I arch into him, crushing myself up against his chest, wanting so badly to be even closer. Wren lets out a groan, breathing heavily into my mouth, and hearing it, hearing him coming undone, ignites fireworks in my head.
This is happening.
This is really happening?
“Elodie,” he pants. I wind my fingers into his hair, relishing the thickness of it, gulping down breath after breath as I try to master this crazy, out of control feeling that’s whipping around in my chest like a hurricane. “Elodie,” he repeats. He pulls back a fraction, tugging on a handful of my hair hard enough that I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. “This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you that we should stop if you’re not… if you… if you don’t…”
“Shut up and fuck me, Wren.”
His eyes flash a green so vivid and intense that they steal the oxygen right out of my lungs. “As you wish.” In one swift, powerful move, he flips me over and throws me down onto the bed, grinning like a demon as he kneels over me, eyes roaming the length and breadth of my body without a lick of shame. “For every filthy thought you’ve had about me, Stillwater, I’ve bested you ten times over. You’ve no idea how many times I’ve wrapped my hand around my cock and made myself come to you here in this bed. How many times I’ve almost bitten through my own fucking tongue, aching for you