Her back met the wall with a soft thud. The candles flickered wildly in the wake of their ragged breaths.
“Edward, please…” she whispered, but it wasn’t a protest.Not yet.
His lips returned to hers—slow, searching—until her body softened, surrendering to the heat of his kiss. But then, suddenly, it was no longer slow. His hand slid into her hair, angling her head back with dominance as he kissed her deeper, demanding. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him, a helpless yelp escaping as he took what he wanted.
He pressed closer—hot, solid muscle pinning her to the wall—until she felt every inch of him, the hard, unyielding proof of his desire pressing against her, undeniable even through layers of fabric.
“Do you feel that?” he rasped against her lips, his voice a breathless snarl as he rolled his hips, the pressure of his arousal grinding between her thighs.
She did. God help her, she did—and it was wrecking her.
Her hands clutched his waistcoat, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. Closer won.
A low, ragged sound escaped him as she shifted against him, letting him guide her into a slow, sinful rhythm. The friction was maddening, exquisite. Heat pooled low in her belly, radiating outward with every deliberate grind of his hips against hers.
His mouth trailed lower, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of her throat, his teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp. His hands—one splayed against the wall beside her head, the other guiding the roll of her hips—grew bolder, sliding over the curve of her waist, bunching her skirts slightly. Not enough to be truly improper, but enough to feel… wicked.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered against her skin.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her lips parted on a breathless moan as he peeled the gown lower, baring her to him, her breasts spilling free as cool air kissed her skin.
He made a sound then—a low, guttural growl—and bent his head.
The first brush of his lips over her peaked flesh made her cry out softly, the velvet heat of his tongue following as he took her into his mouth. His hand cupped her, kneading gently as he lavished attention on her, swirling his tongue over her nipple before sucking deeper, the wet heat making her arch into him with a needy whimper.
"God, you’re perfect," he groaned, voice muffled against her skin. His free hand slid lower, fisting in her skirts and drawing them up, the sensation dizzying as the roughness of his palm skimmed along the bare skin of her thigh.
She felt him there, teasing, the press of his fingers just shy of where she ached for him most.
His mouth left her breast only to capture hers again, hungrier this time, almost desperate. His fingers pressed higher, slipping between her thighs, parting her. She gasped into his kiss as he found her slick heat, stroking slowly, deliberately.
"You’re so wet for me," he rasped, voice rough and unrestrained as he circled that aching spot with maddening precision. "Do you feel how much I want you, Alice?"
She was unraveling. Coming apart beneath him.
“Edward…” Her voice shook, the ache building with every desperate press of his body to hers.
His lips returned to hers, fevered now, hungry, his hips pressing harder, more insistent. He was losing control, and she was letting him.
Until—
No.
Reality pierced through the haze of desire like a blade.
Her hands, trembling, pressed to his chest and pushed. Not hard, but enough.
“Stop,” she gasped, though the word felt like tearing herself in two.
Edward froze instantly. His breath was ragged against her lips, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven bursts.
But she saw the battle in his eyes, the frustration tangled with something far more vulnerable.
“I—” he began, voice hoarse, broken.
But this time, she didn’t let him finish.
