“Saxon…” she whispers, voice shaking.
I lean in until my mouth grazes her ear.
“You played with fire, sweetheart…” My lips drag down to her neck. “…and now you’re mine.”
Her breath breaks in a soft, helpless sound that hits me straight in the gut. I kiss the curve of her throat—slow, then deeper—my hands sliding down her waist, gripping her hips, pulling her flush against me. She trembles, fingers grabbing my shirt like she needs something to survive the moment.
“Saxon—people—” she stammers.
“They can wait.”
I kiss her neck again, lingering, tasting her skin, feeling her pulse jump under my mouth. She gasps when my hand slides down the side of her thigh, fingers curling around it, guiding her leg up just enough for her dress to hitch. Her breath catches. Her fingers dig into my shoulders.
Her body arches into mine, soft and hot and unbearably ready. My voice is low, gravel rough.
“You have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?”
She shakes her head, dazed. “Tell me.”
I press my forehead to hers. “I’d need a damn dictionary to explain it.”
She laughs—a soft, breathless, ruined sound—and her hand slides up under the hem of my shirt, fingers skimming my stomach.
My breath shudders.
“Briar,” I warn in a low growl.
“Yes?” she whispers, eyes heavy.
“Careful.”
“Why?” She bites her lip.
I grab her hip, tightening my grip until she gasps. “Because I won’t stop.”
Her pulse jumps.
“Maybe I don’t want you to,” she whispers.
That’s it.
I lift her thigh higher, guiding her leg around my hip, her dress sliding just enough for warm skin to meet my hand. She moans—quiet, choked, desperate. I kiss her—hard, hungry, reckless—my hand sliding along her thigh, my body pinning her to the wall. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me back with everything she has—every mile of fear, every moment of longing, every promise of forever we just made. Her mouth is soft, frantic, perfect.
Her breath mingles with mine, hot and sweet. Her body moves with mine like we’re already one thing. Her other leg shifts like she’s about to wrap it around me too—I break the kiss with a groan that borders on pain.
“Sweetheart,” I breathe against her mouth, “if you do that…I won’t be able to walk out of here.”
She laughs, soft and shattered, brushing her lips along my jaw. “Who says we have to leave?”
I lower my head to her neck, kissing her again, slower now, deeper, reverent even as my hands stay greedy.
“I want you,” I say, voice hoarse. “All of you. Every bit.”
She shivers. “You have me.”
I exhale hard against her skin, kissing her one last time—long, slow, consuming—before I rest my forehead on hers. Her hands slide down my chest, her breathing fast, her body still molded to mine.
“Let’s go,” I growl.
