She arches into me, her nails scraping lightly down my neck. "Someone might see."
"Let them." I kiss along her jaw, her throat. "You're beautiful when you're desperate."
Her breath hitches as my teeth graze her collarbone. "That's... not what I expected you to say."
I pull back just enough to meet her eyes. "What did you expect?"
"I don't know. Something more... poetic?"
We kiss again, slower this time. "You taste better than poetry."
Her laugh dissolves into a moan as my hands find the hem of her dress. "Korgan?—"
"Tell me to stop." I slide my palms up her thighs, pushing the fabric with them. "Tell me no."
She shakes her head, rainwater flying. "Don't stop."
That's all the permission I need.
Her skin burns under my touch, slick with rain and desire. I explore every inch I can reach—the dip of her waist, the flare of her ribs, and her breasts in my hands. She's perfect, all softness and strength, her body arching into each touch.
"Please," she whispers, her hips rolling against mine.
I capture her mouth again as my fingers find the apex of her thighs. She's hot even through the fabric, wet in a way that has nothing to do with rain. When I press harder, she gasps into my mouth.
"More," she demands when I pull back. "I need?—"
I silence her with another kiss as I push her underwear aside. The first touch of her bare skin makes my vision whiten. She's slick and swollen, her body begging for attention I'm desperate to give.
Her cry gets lost in the storm as I find the rhythm she needs. Her hips move with my hand, her body tightening with each stroke. I watch her face as she comes apart, the way her lips part and her eyes squeeze shut, the way she bites her lip to keep from screaming.
Beautiful. Mine.
I want her, all of her, always. Want to see this every day, want to be the reason she looks like this. The realization should terrify me, but all I feel is rightness.
She goes limp against me as the last tremors fade, her breath coming in quick pants. I press kisses to her throat, her collarbone, anywhere I can reach.
"Korgan," she murmurs, her hands fumbling between us. "Your turn."
I catch her wrist before she can reach my pants. "Not here."
Her eyes fly open. "What? Why?"
"Because the first time I have you, it won't be against a wall in a rainstorm." My lips brush her knuckles. "It won't be rushed or public or anything less than you deserve."
She searches my face. "You're serious."
"Deadly."
Her smile blooms, slow and sweet. "Then we should get back before someone comes looking."
I want to argue, want to carry her somewhere private and spend hours showing her exactly how serious I am. But she's right—this moment exists in a bubble that's about to pop.
I help her fix her dress, my hands lingering longer than necessary. She watches me with eyes that see too much, then rises on her toes to kiss me softly.
"Later," she promises against my lips.
I growl and kiss her harder, pouring everything I can't say into the touch. When we finally pull apart, we're both breathing hard again.
