I want him.
“Kiss m?—”
I barely get the word out before he drops, devouring my mouth with his. Rough, demanding and fuck, yes, it’s exactly what I’ve been starving for.
Cold stone hits my spine, as he pulls me into him, then drives us back, hard. But his arm’s already locked around me, absorbing the impact as his weight presses in—trapping me, holding me, all at once. Like he can’t stand any space between us either.
There’s no escape. I don’t want one.
Warmth flares at my side as his free hand drags up my body—heat searing through every inch until his palm curves over my throat. Confident. Precise. Just enough pressure to steal my breath before his fingers slide into my hair, tilting my head back, angling me for more.
My lips part wider, greedy—and he takes it without pause. Not tentative. Not teasing. Just deeper, harder, like he’s trying to steal the air from my lungs. Like this kiss is the only thing keeping him alive.
A small sting hits as his teeth catch my bottom lip. He tugs. This isn’t like before, not the fake kiss. Not the controlled, calculated thing he used to sell a lie. This is something else entirely. There’s no space, no hesitation. Just his touch and breath and mouth, all of it fast, hard, like he’s past the point of thinking.
“Bloom,” he moans against me, his voice breaks and my knees almost buckle.
There’s something in the way he sounds, feels, even smells out here. Smoke laced with sweetness, it's stronger.Intoxicating. Like everything I’ve ever wanted and nothing I’m allowed to have—and I can’t stop myself, I chase it harder,tongue sliding against his—every movement igniting something deeper, until I’m gasping against him.
And god he answers, pulling me in, kissing me back like he’s just as starving as I am. I could drown in this man; I’ve never come apart like this. Bren’s never had me like this.No one has.
My fingers find his hair, grip tightening like I need it to hold me up. The strands pull under my hand, and then his mouth is gone—dragging lower, across my cheek, down to my throat, finding that spot at the base of my neck where everything sharpens.
A sudden hitch runs through me, stealing my next breath before it comes.
He doesn’t search, doesn’t need to. His lips land right where I’m weakest, and fuck, it’s unfair how fast it shatters me. It’s too tender, too exposed, and every last inch of resistance snaps. Threads spark under my skin, pressure building, begging for him, for more.
I’m his. In this moment, I’m his, and I don’t care what it means. I want this.
A deep ache pulses between my legs, sharpening as his thigh pushes between mine, his weight pinning me harder to the wall, pressure landing exactly where I need it. And my hips shift instinctively, chasing the heat of him, and the friction that follows sparks low and deep—a red hot ache coiling tight, refusing to let go.
I bite down on his lip, desperate to hold my sound in, but his groan tears straight through me as his hand slides down—gripping hard at my ass, pulling me in tighter.
If this is what a mistake feels like, then fuck, give me more. I never want this to end.
My fingers dig into the fabric over his chest, clutching tight, feeling the hard muscle tense beneath. Then his mouth finds mine again—and every slow, claiming stroke of his tongueunravels something in me I didn’t know I was still holding on to; my pulse stutters, my spine bows.
The stone at my back is cold, but all I feel is him, unnatural heat and the slow grind that steals every ounce of air from my lungs.
And still it’s not enough. I need more, want more. I need to feel him, all of him.
My hands roam, tracing the cut of his chest, solid, burning hot beneath the fabric as I search for an opening. It's freezing out, how is he so warm?
But I don’t care. My fingers keep moving, slipping lower, skimming the edge of his waistband until I find the hem of his shirt. I push up, just enough for my fingers to brush that hollow above his belt, the sculpted line of muscle that disappears beneath it. Strong andunfairly perfect.
The first brush of my fingers against bare skin and everything in him goes still—mouth open against mine, breath spilling, uneven. For a heartbeat, we’re suspended there, lips parted, sharing air. His chest heaves, rough and hungry. My knees dip, a faint buckle—like I can’t quite hold myself up—but then his hand closes at the back of my neck, firm, dragging me into him as his tongue slides deeper.
A moan breaks loose before I can stop it. This feels so fucking?—
Suddenly, a surge. Lightning under my skin, a pull that isn’t mine.
It crashes outward, wild and consuming, and for one breathless second, I swear I’m unravelling from the inside out.
Talen jerks, chest rises hard against mine. My knees give, and the ground tilts. I stumble, breaking the kiss, gasping, but he catches me instantly, hands firm at my waist.
“Everything okay?” His voice is heavy, rough at the edges like he’s still trying to catch his breath.
I blink up at him, chest still rising too fast, heart still hammering. There’s no pain. No numbness. Just… this strange, floating weightlessness. Like I’ve lost the ground under me, but don’t really care.
