Kieran goes still in my arms.
Then, he pulls away, and I nearly whimper at the loss of contact.
His eyes are dark but wet, red-rimmed from tears. There’s something haunted in his expression, something ancient and broken.
My heart breaks for whatever is haunting him. Haunting us both.
Without thinking, I reach out and cup his face, feeling the rough stubble beneath my palms. I pull him toward me and kiss him.
He takes a shuddering breath against my lips and grasps my wrists. His fingers wrap around them firmly, and for a terrifying moment, I think he’s going to stop me, going to be noble and proper and leave me here alone with the echo of that dream still clinging to my skin.
But he doesn’t.
He holds my wrists in his hands—not pushing me away, just holding on—and kisses me back. Fiercely. Desperately. Like I’m air, and he’s been drowning. The kiss is nothing like the controlled man I’ve come to know. This is raw, unfiltered need matching my own.
He pushes me down onto the bed, his weight settling over me, and keeps kissing me like he can’t stop, like stopping would kill him. His hands release my wrists to roam my body, sliding over my sides, my hips, mapping every curve like an explorer. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t commit every inch to memory.
I arch into his touch, that desperate need intensifying until I can barely breathe. Kieran’s mouth crushes mine as his hands continue to explore, slowly at first, then faster, greedier, as though feeling the shape of me isn’t enough. He needs more. All of me.
The hem of my shirt is in his hands before my mind catches up. He hesitates only long enough to look at me—asking one raw, wordless question—and when I lift my arms, something inside him clearly snaps.
Fabric hits the floor. His breath leaves him in a sharp, guttural sound as he gazes at me, and then his hands are all over my chest—hot, reverent, hungry. His thumbs sweep over sensitive skin, and the moan that escapes me is helpless, torn straight from the depths of that nightmare and this need tangled together.
I arch into him again, my back lifting high off the bed, my body begging without words.
His mouth finds my nipple, and he circles it with his tongue while his fingers play with my other hardened nub. I never thought my breasts were very sensitive, but with Kieran’s hands on them, I can’t help but whimper. I squeeze my legs together, feeling my juices coat my inner thighs. He’s relentless, switching between breasts, biting down for a slight flicker of pain that has me winding my hands through his hair.
Kieran groans against my skin, a deep, trembling sound that vibrates through me. His hands slide lower, his mouth trailing heat down my stomach, the scrape of his stubble leaving me breathless.
My legs fall open automatically, instinct pulling me up under him, needing him to fill the space that terror left behind. His hand slips between my thighs, and I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair, my entire body jolting as if a live current has hit me.
He pushes one finger inside me, and my head falls back at how thick it is. I’m already so wet that it slides in easily. He pumps it a few times before pushing in the second one. This time, I let out a broken moan. His name leaves my lips, and he seizes my mouth in a fierce kiss. All the while, his fingers are moving in and out of me in an unhurried pace.
The first orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. I moan as Kieran buries his face in my neck, his mouth leaving small bites on my skin. I writhe under him, but he holds me down, his fingers riding it out. And then he picks up the pace, forcing me into another climax.
The pleasure builds too fast—so hot, so overwhelming, drowning out everything but him. My nails drag down his shoulders, my hips bucking up into his hand helplessly.
And when I break, when the pleasure snaps and shatters me from the inside out, I cry out his name like a prayer I didn’t know I had in me.
The moment I fall, something feral flashes across his face. His restraint vanishes, and his hunger surges to the surface. He grabs my thighs, pulling me down the bed toward him with a low, throaty sound that sends heat flooding between my legs again.
He hasn’t spoken, and neither have I. His mouth is on my stomach now, and then it goes lower. Much lower.
He devours me like he’s been starved for years. I feel his tongue enter me, sliding in, eating me out, and I reach for the sheets, desperate to hold on to something. This man, this alpha, is holding my hips down as he licks me with deep strokes, forcing my eyes to roll to the back of my head. He’s hitting every spot I didn’t know was sensitive. My body is straining for relief. He’s torturing me, and I love every second of it.
My body writhes on the bed, helpless, wild, every orgasm tearing through me harder than the last until I’m shaking, trembling, my voice nothing more than broken sounds and pleas even I don’t understand.
He doesn’t stop.
He only comes up for breath to kiss a path back up my body—slowly at first, then faster, more urgent, more desperate. His hands come up to cage me, his body covering mine completely, engulfing me in the sweetest, most consuming way.
His breath fans my lips, hot and uneven. And then I feel him—hard, ready, trembling—pressed firmly against me.
His eyes meet mine once more, and then he pushes forward.
He’s so thick and so long. As he penetrates, my breath leaves me in a soft, broken gasp. His forehead drops to mine, his body shaking with the force of holding himself back, giving me a moment, letting me adjust…
And then I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in deeper.
