Hedidn’t.
“And this…” He opens a door, and I gasp. “This is ours.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Erin
“So after all yourcarrying on about your bedroom beingmine,” I say, which earns me a teasing smack to the arse.
The primary bedroom is breathtaking. A massive four-poster bed dominates the space, piled with soft linens and thick pillows. There are candles everywhere, lit and glowing softly, and the windows overlook the dark expanse of trees outside. It’s intimate and romantic and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
“Cavin.” I turn to him, my eyes stinging again.
He brushes his lips against mine and kisses me. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve been holding myself back?” he says, his eyes growing heated and possessive. “Any idea?”
The kiss deepens, then turns hungry.
“Cavin.” I breathe against his mouth.
“Aye?”
“I want this. I want you.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and searching. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
His control snaps. He kisses me like he’s starving, and I’m fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. His hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, gripping my waist, sliding up my ribs, over my breasts with reverence.
“Fuck this,” he growls and rips his shirt open. Buttons scatter across the floor.
I gasp, staring at the expanse of golden skin, the hard planes of muscle, the black ink winding over his shoulder and down his ribs. The scars that map out his history.
He’s gorgeous. Dangerous.Mine.
His hands find the zipper of my dress. The sound of it sliding down is obscenely loud in the quiet room. Cool air hits my heated skin as the fabric pools at my feet.
I’m standing there in my white lace bra and knickers, and the way he looks at me?—
“Christ, Erin.” He sighs. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
I reach for him and pull him close, then kiss the small tattoo of a rose on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
My hands stroke down the length of his chest. His abs contract under my touch. His cock is a hard, thick ridge against my hip, straining against his trousers.
“My fuckin’ god,” he growls. “Keep touching me like that and this’ll be over before it starts.”
I do it again. Deliberately. My thumbs graze over his nipples.
He makes a rough sound—something between a curse and a prayer—and his hips jerk forward involuntarily.
Power surges through me.Idid that.Imade him lose control.
He lifts me effortlessly and lays me on the bed like I’m something precious and breakable, even though his eyes are wild and hungry.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, crawling over me. His mouth finds my throat. My collarbone. Lower. “So fucking beautiful, Erin.”
He unclasps my bra, slides it off my shoulders, then tosses it aside. Cool air hits my nipples, and they tighten into hard peaks.
