"Erik..." My name falls from her lips like a prayer and a curse combined. "We can't—"
I silence her protest by nipping at her earlobe, drawing a gasp that shoots straight to my groin. "Can't what?" My hands slide up her ribs, ghosting just beneath the swell of her breasts. "Can't give in to what we both know is inevitable?"
She spins in my arms, her back hitting the door with a soft thud. Those mystical eyes burn with desire and defiance, setting my blood on fire. "Nothing is inevitable," she growls, but her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as she protests.
Our breaths mingle in the scant space between us, every exhale charged with electricity. One move, that's all it would take. One slight tilt of my head and I could claim those lips that have haunted my dreams.
"Why would you want me? After everything, I'm nothing—"
I crush my mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise. The kiss is nothing like our first—this is raw hunger, of denial igniting like wildfire. Her lips part beneath mine, and the taste of her—honey mead and storm clouds—obliterates my self-control.
We stumble through the doorway, tangled with desperate hands and hungry mouths. The door slams behind us with enough force to rattle the hinges, but I barely notice. Not when Bryn's nails rake down my back, or when she's making those little sounds in her throat that drive me wild.
"I'm done listening to you tear yourself apart. You are everything, Bryn. Why can't you see that?"
"Erik," she moans against my lips as I pin her to the wall. Her leg hooks around my hip, drawing me closer. The silk of her dress rustles between us, too many layers separating skin from skin. "I can't—I've tried so hard to fight this—"
I claim her mouth deeper, hungrier, and her answering tug on my hair draws a growl from my throat. Something snaps in her at the sound—the last thread of resistance finally breaking.
She molds against me, all soft curves and desperate need. Her arousal fills my senses, making my fangs ache. When I roll my hips against hers, she breaks the kiss with a cry.
"Stop fighting this, little bird," I growl against her lips before claiming them again, my tongue demanding entry. She matches me stroke for stroke, pulling me closer.
"But…" she breathes.
I tangle my fingers in her hair, tilting her head back to devour her mouth properly. She meets my passion with equal force, fisting my shirt to pull me closer. When her hips rock against mine, seeking friction, a groan rumbles through my chest. These clothes between us—they're too much and not enough.
My lips trail down her throat, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch. I pause at her gown's neckline, meeting her heated gaze with silent question.
"Don't stop," she whispers roughly. "I want this. I want you."
I tear at her bodice, needing to see her, taste her. When her breasts spill free—rosy-tipped nipples, tight, perfect—my brain short-circuits. But seeing isn't enough. I capture one nipple with my mouth, sucking and licking until she's writhing. Her moans drive me wild as I switch to the other breast, worshipping it with equal devotion.
"I need you naked." The words come out as a desperate grunt.
I untie her dress, letting the silk whisper down her body until it pools at her feet. She stands naked before me, all graceful lines and lush curves. My gaze devours every inch—from her delicate collarbones to the toned planes of her stomach.
Goosebumps rise on her skin under my heated stare. I step closer, curving my hand around her neck, fingers tangling in her hair.
"Mine," I growl before claiming her mouth. Our tongues battle for dominance as her nails rake down my back, marking me as hers.
I lift her, and her legs lock around my waist as I carry her to the bed. We fall together, my hands exploring every inch of skin I've been denied for so long. Her heat brands me through my leathers as I taste her throat, her collarbones, her breasts.
"Off," she commands, fingers flying to my belt.
I tear away my clothes—jacket, shirt—revealing tattooed skin. Her hands slip beneath my waistband, sending heat through my veins.
Her eyes lock onto my exposed length, and a strangled sound escapes her throat. "That's... not what I expected."
"Oh?" I grin wickedly. "Something less impressive?"
"Honestly? Yeah."
I pounce, pinning her wrists above her head. "Is that so?" My hips grind down, letting her feel every inch. "Pray tell, what about me screams 'small cock' to you?"
"Well..." Her eyes dance with wicked humor even as she arches beneath me. "You're always so... controlled. Measured. Figured that extended to everything."
"Disappointed?" I roll my hips, drawing a gasp.
