When I ran my hand through his hair, I stared at it while he just…stared at me.
Raptured. Surprised. Frozen.
His eyes softened, a flicker of amusement swirling there, as he let me play with his curls.
Soft and silky, just like I’d imagined. I loved the texture between my fingers. A soft laugh bubbled from his chest, low and warm, sending a ripple of pleasure down my spine. It made me get a bit bolder.
I tugged gently. The laugh vanished. He moaned under his breath and bent fast to capture my lips again, hauling me into him.
Knowing I had that effect on such a beautiful specimen made me dizzy. A new kind of drunk.
This time, the kiss wasn’t sweet. It was heat and hunger, hands pulling, bodies crashing. His tongue pushed past my lips, stroked and tangled with mine. Our noses bumped.
I arched into him as I clung to his shoulders, completely undone by the way he kissed—like he already knew me. Like he’d waited forever for this. It was breathless and messy and perfect.
My vagina rubbed her metaphorical hands together, sure she was getting some tonight. Yearning and desire pulsed through me, the sparks a tangible current.
With a low growl, Logan wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me right off the floor with an easy strength that made my core throb, thinking about what else he could do with such ease. I bet people couldn’t even see me as I disappeared into his humongous arms.
How had the slow, hesitant kiss from before evolved into this? A primal need. A claim of territory. A wave of heat flooded me, and his touches became more pronounced, as if to show who I belonged to.
And then my tongue brushed something sharp.
A fang!
A squeal—quite an embarrassing one—slipped past my lips. The bitches.
He rumbled a laugh over my mouth, deep and husky, and trailed the backs of his fingers down my right cheek to my neck, lingering over the spot where mates were supposed to mark each other.
And pressed down.
Nostrils flared, he looked at me through the cracks of his eyelids. The tips of his fangs were visible as he bit down on his lower lip.
I closed my eyes.
His lips brushed my jaw.
His hot breath fanned across my neck.
His tongue flicked out and traced the base of my throat, right over the marking spot.
Tempting. Dangerous.Consensual.
I tilted my head to the side to offer him more skin. My heart hammered against my ribs like it wanted to break out and order him to mark me.
He growled again, but this time it was different—rougher, torn between restraint and something deeper, hidden.
“Mate.” I heard a distant, distorted voice, as if a beast had given human speech.
His breathing turned erratic.Are his hands shaking?
His lips ghosted my mark spot.
And then?—
Then…
When nothing happened, my eyes fluttered open, skin humming, heart ready.
