Well, after yesterday's indecision, I re-read Blood of Angels and realised it's...it's pretty damn good, you guys. So far, I mean. It's only 6k long at the moment, but it's a good 6k! I'm slightly worried I can't match what I've already written, but I'm going to give it my best shot. So here's a teaser. Enjoy!
He shuddered at her touch, but she sensed it was less pain and more pleasure now. The pungent scent of lavender hung in the air, lulling her into a steady rhythm as she massaged his back. The tension seeped out of him, drop by drop, in time with the rain beating on the window. Finally, she felt she had to stop. Her hands were free of salve and there seemed to be no other excuses to touch him. She raised her hands.
"Don't stop," he said, his voice almost too low to hear.
She remembered her earlier fear of even looking at him. She'd snapped past it so quickly she ought to have whiplash, but it was ridiculous to fear touching him now when they'd clung together like survivors of some disaster in the shower, when she'd just slid her palms all over that inhuman skin.
And yet, she hesitated. There was a danger here, just one she hadn't identified yet.
"Please," he said, "don't stop."
How could she deny him when he begged like that? Obligingly, she stroked his back again. Daringly, she swept her hand up the back of his neck and into the damp tangle of his silky hair. He arched into her touch with a soft sigh that encouraged her. She trailed her other hand down his spine, brushing the small of his back and the inviting curve of his buttocks. He shifted, leaning forwards as if to offer more of himself to her, and then Thea’s nerves failed. He was a work of art, a miracle. You didn’t manhandle art.
She withdrew her hands, folding them in her lap, her cheeks blazing.
"Don't stop," he said, his voice almost too low to hear.
She remembered her earlier fear of even looking at him. She'd snapped past it so quickly she ought to have whiplash, but it was ridiculous to fear touching him now when they'd clung together like survivors of some disaster in the shower, when she'd just slid her palms all over that inhuman skin.
And yet, she hesitated. There was a danger here, just one she hadn't identified yet.
"Please," he said, "don't stop."
How could she deny him when he begged like that? Obligingly, she stroked his back again. Daringly, she swept her hand up the back of his neck and into the damp tangle of his silky hair. He arched into her touch with a soft sigh that encouraged her. She trailed her other hand down his spine, brushing the small of his back and the inviting curve of his buttocks. He shifted, leaning forwards as if to offer more of himself to her, and then Thea’s nerves failed. He was a work of art, a miracle. You didn’t manhandle art.
She withdrew her hands, folding them in her lap, her cheeks blazing.
