Bone Island: Book of Danvers (Tales of Weeping Hollow, #2)

by Nicole Fiorina

Stone and I looked into each other’s eyes, watching me strike his cheek with my palm, and it hurts in my heart, not on my face. It hurts, but this wasn’t what he wanted me to see or feel. It was what came next, and our eyes catch, skin against skin, blonde wisps of hair in my face, flares of starved, green eyes, waves of warmth crashing into me one after the other, pure bliss, so light it could take me to my knees, so heavy it could take me to my grave; the feel of her bound to me, the taste of her on my lips, the smell of her surrounding me, the sound of her breathing, the way she’s holding me, all of me, this is deeper than mere pleasure as it feels like something good inside her is slowly rushing through where we’re connected and making its way into me; my blood is pulsing, I’m on the edge, crumbling like sand; she’s stealing me slowly, and it feels like my heart is beating out of my chest, because this is the moment, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself, and I’m terrified; stone not paper, I scream, but it’s already too late; I keep falling apart; again and again, I fall apart.

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