"You ruined me first. In that garden. When you stepped out of the shadows and looked at me like I was something you wanted to devour."
His eyes darken dangerously. "You have no idea how close I came that night. How hard it was to tell you to go inside when all I wanted was to?—"
"Was to what?"
He answers by kissing me again.
Harder this time. More desperate.
His hips roll against mine, and I whimper into his mouth—actuallywhimper—which should be embarrassing but isn't because he makes the same sound right back.
"Maybe I don't want the soldier." I run my hands down his chest, feeling the muscles jump beneath my touch. "Maybe I want the man."
He shudders. Actually shudders. Like my words are too much for him to bear.
Then his mouth is on my neck, and I lose the ability to think.
He kisses down the column of my throat, like he's memorized every nerve ending and knows exactly how to light them on fire.
His teeth scrape over my pulse point, and I gasp.
His tongue follows, soothing the sting, and I melt against him.
"RJ—" His name comes out broken. Desperate.
He finds the sensitive spot just below my ear andsucks, and I make a sound that probably carries through those thin walls and up into the clubhouse itself.
I don't care.
Let the whole club hear.
Let them know exactly what's happening down here.
His hands are everywhere—sliding up my sides, tangling in my hair, gripping my thighs where they're still wrapped around his waist.
He's holding me like I weigh nothing, like he could do this for hours, and the casual display of strength makes something hot and liquid pool in my belly.
"Please," I manage, though I'm not entirely sure what I'm asking for. "RJ, please."
He lifts his head just enough to meet my eyes.
His pupils are blown wide, the gray almost swallowed by black. His lips are swollen from kissing. His chest heaves with each breath.
He looks wrecked.
He looks beautiful.
"Please what?" His voice is gravel and smoke. "Tell me what you want."
"You. Just you. All of you."
Something shifts in his expression.
The hunger is still there, but it's tempered now by something softer.
Something that looks almost like wonder.
Like he can't quite believe this is real, that I'm real, that I'm here in his arms asking for more.
