When he helps me out of my shirt and tosses it aside, he looks at me with reverence in his gray-green eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Juniper,” he says in a low tone, like a secret just between us.
I reach behind my back and unhook my bra, but he stays my hands when I go for the straps. He shudders as he slips them down my arms, one by one, torturously slow. When my breasts are finally bared to him, my nipples pebbling under his perusal of me, he looks into my eyes then captures my lips in a heart-stopping kiss. His scent spikes, and I desperately breathe it in, needing him. His scent, his touch, his lips on mine, on my breasts…
“May I touch?” he asks, his voice hoarse with need.
I smirk at him, finally the one in control. “Isn’t that the idea?”
He wipes the smirk straight off my face when he weighs one breast in his strong hand, squeezing me gently before massaging the sensitive flesh. When he thumbs over my erect nipple, I shiver. I lean back on his lap, giving him better access to my breasts.
“I want to see you, too,” I murmur, and he obliges me, yanking off his henley and tossing it aside.
My eyes go wide as I take him in. Saints, his body looks like it was sculpted in marble, a classical statue that belongs in a museum. I trace my fingertips over his pecs and down the ladder of his abs, shivering, my perfume exploding from me and flooding the air around us.
“Let me touch you,” he all but begs.
“Not before I feel you against me,” I say, pressing my body to his with a sigh. He wraps his arms around me and breathes deeply, his chest expanding against my bare breasts. I moan out my heady pleasure, and he takes my hips in his hands, then settles me back on his lap as I was before, and I realize something with another whine. Marcus Haley plans to worship me. Slowly, reverently.
He leans me back, one arm around me to keep me from falling, and kisses a line from my jaw to my breast, before taking my nipple between his lips. I let out a breathy, needy moan, and he lashes his tongue against the sensitive nub.
“Marcus,” I breathe.
He groans. “Say it again, Juniper, please.”
I throw my head back as he laves his tongue over my nipple, crying out his name this time.
A knock sounds at the door, and my eyes go wide. “Again? We’re being interruptedagain?”
Marcus kisses me once more, just a sweet press of his lips, then pulls on his shirt. He goes to the door and cracks it open, shielding me from whoever’s at the door, protecting me even now.
“Oh,” Luca says.
Hemustknow what we’ve been doing. My scent is all over Marcus, and his hair is mussed from where I ran my hands through it.
“I was just going to, uh, ask if you wanted to meet at theChinese restaurant and pick up dinner for the pack with me. But you’re busy. Clearly. Uh?—”
“Give us a few minutes,” Marcus rumbles, all but slamming the door in Luca’s face. He comes to the couch and finds my discarded clothes. He traces the curves of my breasts once more before easing the straps of my bra up my arms and onto my shoulders before he latches the band. He helps me into my shirt, doing the buttons up slowly, dressing me as sweetly as he was reverent when he helped me undress. He finally pulls me to my feet, pocketing my tie. He closes the distance between us, nuzzling my cheek to layer even more of his scent on my skin. He kisses my jaw, then my lips.
“Never forget that you are mine,” he says in a low voice, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. “And I am yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
On the night of the convocation ball for Saint Galen’s Consortium, a ball for new students and their packs and families, Cassian leads me up to my nest where an elegant dress box is laid out. I pull the tail of the bow, and it comes apart, then I carefully lift the top of the box off, revealing stunning black lace.
I draw the dress from the box, the black silk of the skirt slipping through my fingers. The ball gown is stunning, with black lace covering a sweetheart bodice. The half-length sleeves are made of the same beautiful lace, and when I look closer, I realize the pattern of the lace forms roses and thorns. I turn back to Cassian, wonder in my eyes. “Cass, it’sbeautiful.”
“Let me help you dress, love,” he says, a rumble of pride in his voice. I carefully set the dress back in the box just long enough to cross my nest and kiss him.
“Yes, please,” I say, still in awe of the gorgeous dress.
I skip to my closet and rummage through my lingerie drawer for a strapless bra and a lacy black thong. When I show them to Cassian for his approval, he groans.
I let the thong hang from one finger. “You said you were going to help me dress, mate?”
“Why do we never leave enough time before these damn events? You want me to put those on you, but all I’ll want to do is rip them back off.”
I send him a cheeky smile and slowly slide my leggings and panties off my legs, bending low to strip them off. I toss them in my laundry basket and then beckon Cassian toward me. His scent spikes, filling my nest with salty summer sea air, and my eyes flutter shut as it wraps around me. He comes to me and goes to his knees in front of me, taking the thong from my hand. He helps me step into it, then slowly, he draws the scrap of black lace up my calves, then my thighs, his fingers trailing soft, teasing touches over my skin. Just before settling the band of the thong over my hips, he places a hot, open-mouthed kiss to my mound. A promise for later. My perfume blooms, sweet and thick in between us, and Cassian rumbles out a curse.
When he stands, he captures my lips in a searing kiss. “Two can tease,” he murmurs in my ear.
