I taste rain and tension, taste the steel edge of restraint as he kisses me back harder.
His mouth drags down my throat and I arch against him, not shy, not sweet, justneedin a woman's shape.
When his hands lift me to the table, nothing clatters.
His voice is thick at my ear, low and rough and gone with wanting.
"You want me here, Keira?"
I pull his belt open with both hands.
"I want youhome."
He groans as I wrap my legs around him, pulling him flush, grinding slow and high until we both hiss into the heat between us.
"Say it again," he growls.
"You," I pant, eyes fluttering.
"I wantyou."
22
RUAIRÍ
Her voice is a low order, and it burns through me.
I feel her fingers pulling at my shirt, and the quiet certainty in her eyes tells me there is no room for distance tonight.
I do not ask again.
I scoop her up in my arms, one hand gripping the soft curve beneath her thigh, the other braced around her back, holding her close as if someone might try to take her from me even now.
She tastes like heat and defiance when I kiss her again, slow and rough, my mouth claiming every breath she tries to take.
The rain still clings to my hair, to my clothes, dampening the heat rolling off my body, but she is warm against me, already arching into me as if she cannot get close enough.
I carry her to the bed, feeling her nails graze my neck as she drags me down with her, the mattress dipping under our combined weight.
I sit back for a moment, straddling the edge, my hands on her knees, forcing them apart as I look at her.
She is already flushed, her lips swollen from my mouth, her chest rising with shallow, impatient breaths.
I like seeing her like this, undone but still in control of her own fire.
I peel herblouse open one button at a time, slow enough to hear her breath catch.
My thumb brushes the bare skin beneath, tracing the line between her ribs and waist, a silent tease before I slip the fabric off her shoulders.
She moves to do the same to me, but I catch her wrist and shake my head.
"Not yet," I murmur, leaning down to kiss the curve of her collarbone, my teeth grazing lightly as my tongue follows.
She shivers beneath me.
My hands slide over her hips, finding the zipper of her skirt, drawing it down with unhurried precision.
The sound of it unfastening feels too loud in the quiet room.
