Cait Greer's novel, PARAWARS: UPRISING came out in October last year, and this lovely, steamy, up-against-the-wall kiss is from that NA novel.
I fling myself to the ledge, trying to find him, to find some sign that he’s won the fight. Nothing. Just darkness. Lightning stabs the forest in front of me, tearing the sky with electricity so strong I can feel it, and a thunder clap so deafening that it leaves my ears ringing.
Still nothing. But I can’t take my eyes off the night, can’t pull myself out of the rain. He has to be there. He’s not.
And then he is.
Wings beating against the rain and the wind, he’s not so careful with his landing this time. He lands hard on the balcony, making the force of it vibrate through the stone at my feet. Rain pours off him in a million tiny rivers that flow over every crease and bend in his body. He pushes up from his three-point landing stance, and I can see blood mixing with the rain to stream off his face. Cullain’s fist must have cut him. His eyes burn black in the shattering darkness.
I reach out for him. “God, Axel, are you alright?”
His hands close tight on my arms, eyes scanning over every inch of me. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”
“I…no, I’m fine. You’re bleeding!” There’re two cuts, actually, and I can see he has a split lip. It’s already swelling.
“Are you sure? You’re positive? You’re not hurt?” His eyes are almost frantic on mine.
“I’m fine!” My fingers brush his split lip as lightning strikes again, throwing his features into sharp contrast. “It’s you I’m worried about, look at thi—”
I don’t finish my sentence. I can’t.
I can’t because his lips are on mine, crushing down. I can taste the rain on him, sweet, and the sharp tang of his blood. His mouth is hungry, flexing against mine, working my jaw open wider, drinking me in. His tongue flickers, teasing, tasting, running along my lip, dancing with my own.
My heart pounds in my ears. Everything around me vanishes but him. I don’t notice the rain that runs down my head and face and body, or the lightening that splits the night. I can’t hear the thunder over the pounding of my heart. I only have room for him, for his touch, his lips, his hands, his body. Fingers slide from my shoulder up to my neck, until they tangle in my hair. His other hand slides to my waist, pulling me tight, until I couldn’t move away if I wanted to. I can’t imagine ever wanting to. My own hands are on his chest, ranging up and down, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, his abs, his shoulders.
I don’t realize we’re moving until my back hits the wall.
He pulls away a fraction, and I groan, breath coming in great gasps.
“Tell me to stop, tell me to leave, and I will,” he whispers, his breath on my lips.
“Never leave,” I breathe back, and his lips crash down into me again. I’m just as desperate for him. Our wet bodies press tighter against each other, until we can’t possibly get any closer, but we still try. I want to climb inside him.
He takes my lower lip in his mouth, pulling and biting at it, his tongue sliding along the edge. It sends shivers down my spine. My fingers tighten on the muscles of his back, willing him closer. His wings wrap around us, sheltering, creating our own space where there’s just the two of us, and nothing else. His mouth moves to my jaw, my neck, licking away the rain, caressing my skin. I can’t keep myself from moaning.
My fingers play with the hem of his soaked shirt, grazing the skin beneath. I want my hands on his body, want to run them over his skin. He kisses the base of my neck and shoulder, sucking gently at the skin, and I can’t help it. My hand slides under his shirt to caress the muscles of his back.
The hand on my waist tightens, and he freezes.
“Kendry,” he breathes in my ear. His voice is husky, and it’s half a question, half begging.
I kiss the corner of his mouth lightly, and then again, harder, licking at the blood where it’s split and the rain that still pours down over us. My hand runs up and down his perfect back.
Axel groans, and then his drenched shirt is gone, vanished, and there’s only the warmth of his wet skin under my hand. His fingers dig into my waist as I kiss his collarbone, running my hands up his back, across the base of his wings, under his arms, across the soft, beautiful skin of his chest, up over his shoulders and down the clenched muscles of his arms. And then they run back up to pull his lips down again to mine. His hips press hard against me, pinning my body against the wall as his lips devour me
And just when things are getting good, he reaches up and pulls my arms away.
He leans his head against mine, our chests heaving, water dripping from his rain-soaked black hair. The rain is finally calming, settling into a drizzle. His wings still surround us, our hands still grasping at each other. I whimper quietly, wishing he’d kiss me again, that he’d let go of my arms and go where I know this was going two seconds ago. But he just stands there, leaning against me, keeping me against the wall outside my room. His thumb reaches up to trace my lips, and when he kisses me this time, it’s soft, tender.
“I have wanted to do that for so long,” he whispers.