I fucking hate you. The words should have made him feel cold and angry, but instead, that doused a dying fire in gasoline. His chest seemed to open up as the flame that was his heart woke up. She didn’t mean that. He could hear the catch in her voice, the defeated tone, the breath on which the words were delivered. Amos knew well they had a vice hold on another that was all but broken when she left; he hadn’t expected the ragged edges to seal together so wholly when he saw her again. They weren’t meant to be apart, and even if Reagan didn’t say it out loud, he could tell as her porcelain fingers curled in the fabric of her shirt and she lifted her little frame up to kiss him that the spell hadn’t been broken. If a witch she was, then the spell she cast followed the rule of three, because she was victim to its curse, its blessing, just the same as he was.
When her petal like lips touched his own, he felt an ablution. As if he had been doused in cleansing water — his spine reacted, his blood reacted. His own lips parted, catching hers, making sure to silence the chaste intention of the kiss with his tongue. Feral, beaten hands came first to her little waist, dwarfing it, then bravely slid down along the curve of her ass, further to the tops of her thighs which were deviously muscled like a doe’s. As if he had practiced the motion over and over, as if this were an old memory finding its footing again in old ruts in the earth, his hands lifted her, the motion parting her thighs around his abdomen. He wanted her, all of her, and he told her so in an animal growl.
In the dim light of the bar, she looked like a siren with pale hair and fierce eyes, and he was willing to be dashed on the rocks.
Reagan couldn’t anticipate the way Amos would react upon tiptoeing up to his full lips for she hadn’t planned to do so to begin with. It had been a spur of the moment act consumed by a dire need to be close to him. It felt as if her chest had erupted in flames and only he could soothe the ragged and crisp skin. Her fingers curled at the front of his chest, sighing softly against his person the moment his arms encircled her. Lithe body almost folded beneath it’s weight, opening up to the male once it realized where it was; home. In his arms, wherever they were, whatever they went through, she was and forever would be home. Full lips crushed harder against his with a sense of impatience, as if they were in a battle with the clock. Perhaps it was more that she feared the moment she broke the embrace, he would somehow realize her greediness and push her away.
However, the moment his hands shifted down her body as if a map he’d spent his life studying until he memorized every single inch of her person, she knew that both were fuelled by a dire need for one another. Her legs parted to settle around his waist, having rehearsed this dance of theirs for various years. Her arms encircled his neck, crushing her parted lips into his with furry. Upon pulling away, her teeth had captured his lower lip and tugged on it, before her lips parted ever so slightly. “Amos,” the blonde breathed, hands on either side of the male’s face now, “I want you.” she spoke in a sultry tone. Normally, she wouldn’t have voiced her desires as she knew there would be no hesitation from his part. Dainty fingers slid down the front of his chest and began to undo the top button of his shirt, refraining from tearing it completely open.
“I want you,” she breathed again, no more but a murmur against his lips. “please.”
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