He stands, moves around the desk toward me, and I back up until I hit the wall. The same wall where just two days ago he kissed me before Finn interrupted with news about Tide Runners.
"You're nervous," he observes.
"You're mostly naked."
"Is that a problem?"
Yes. No. Maybe. My brain can't decide because he's so close now and my shadows—his shadows, our shadows—are warming between us.
"You killed someone for me," I say, because apparently my mouth works without my brain.
"I did."
"That's very..." I search for a word. Violent? Extreme? Protective?
"Arousing," I blurt.
His eyebrows lift, a slow smile curving his mouth. "Arousing?"
"I mean—that's not—I shouldn't find protective murder attractive, but apparently I do, and that's probably concerning, but you looked very focused and capable and—"
He kisses me.
Not gentle. Claiming.
He pins me to the wall, and I go soft against him immediately, lips parting on instinct. His tongue sweeps in, tasting, taking, and I make a noise I've never made before—needy and shameless.
His hands frame my face, then slide into my hair, angling me exactly where he wants me. His shadows ripple across my skin—cool at first, then warm, then hot. They curl around my waist, my thighs, sliding beneath my skirt.
"Your arm," he murmurs against my mouth.
"What arm?" I gasp, trying to pull him closer.
He laughs—a deep, ragged sound. "Bed. Now."
Somehow we're moving, though I don't remember my feet cooperating. One moment I'm pressed against the wall, the next I'm on his bed. His shadows pulse around me, flickering with heat, curling against my skin with intent.
He stalks toward the bed. His briefs are gone—when did that happen?—and I forget how to breathe. Every inch of him is controlled violence barely leashed.
"Tell me to stop," he says, voice hoarse with restraint. "Tell me if you want soft."
I sit up, grab his wrist, and pull him down. "I don't want soft. I want you."
The sound he makes is almost a growl.
His shadows surge up, wrapping my wrists—not tight, but firm. My breath hitches.
"Is this okay?" he rasps.
"Yes. More."
His mouth finds my neck, trailing burning kisses, teeth scraping lightly as shadows lift my dress over my head, slow and reverent.
When I'm bare beneath him, his shadows caress everywhere. They slide along my inner thighs, teasing. One trails between my breasts, featherlight. I arch into the sensation, breath coming hard.
"You're shaking," he murmurs.
"You're everywhere. Your shadows are—oh—"
