“FUCK!” Sai explodes on the other end. But now, he’s background noise, because I’m devouring her with my eyes.
“I’m relying on you, man,” he murmurs, voice hazy with need. “Don’tfuck this up. I’ll be there soon.”
The call ends, phone falling onto the mattress—forgotten.
My hand glides to her shoulder, gently guiding her sleeping body until she’s lying on her back. She’s wearing nothing but Kane’s hoodie. Her breaths steady and deep, eyelids fluttering faintly.
My fingers trail down the curve of her bare thigh, it’s like dipping them in the flames of holy fire.
Every touch is so intense, it’s almost painful. Heavenly, intoxicating pain.
I sweep over her shin, her knee, caressing her thigh again until I reach the bottom of the hoodie.
Another soft moan falls from her lips. I shut my eyes, give myself a moment to focus, but when I open them again, her misty gaze meets mine.
She realises where she is, who is beside her, and all sleep disintegrates from her expression, eyes widening.
But it’s too late. I warned her.
I grip her wrists together in one hand, pulling them above her head as I lower my face to hers.
“I told you what would happen if you came,” I murmur. My words are drenched in darkness as my fingers continue to roam the soft skin of her legs, her thighs. “You’re mine.”
The one thing Sai told me not to say, but my mind is hindered by the image of her. The scent. The feel.
All my senses are overwhelmed yet desperate for more.
When my fingers dip beneath the hem of her clothing, reaching the top of her thigh, she squirms. Peering up at me with those large, red eyes—I hold still.
If she says her safe word, if she ends this…
“How did I get here?” Her words are so breathy, her chest rising and falling, and I’m barely touching her.
“You sleepwalked here. Into my bed. After I told you what would happen.”
I never stop the delicate brushes over her thighs, lingering upon the sensitive inner skin. And when I feel them part, I vow I hear angels sing.
“Do you remember the last time I touched you like this, mon âme?”
She wets her lips, and I know she’s picturing it. In Ezekial’s office, on my lap, against my chest.
My fingertips reach the edge of her underwear. I brush the border of the lacey material once, twice—watch her breaths become more laboured.
“And the first time, at the house, with Sai.”
She gives one slow nod, and I reward her with the barest caress over her centre.
But it’s a punishment for me. The feel of her, the heat, the wetness.
I bite my tongue, repeat the action, and her gaze darkens as she pulls against my hold.
“I need retribution for those moments,” I murmur.
Her brows furrow at my words, but when my finger slips beneath her drenched underwear, the tip sliding over her soaking centre, her mouth parts on a soundless pant.
I lower myself, brush my nose with hers, using only the tip of my finger to slide up and down her centre.
“I need this—you.” I try to withhold my growl. “Will you allow that, mon âme?” Our noses skim, my finger never stops. “You will, won’t you? You’ll be good for me. You’re already so wet, so eager. You’ll give me what I desire, won’t you?”
