I snapped.
Digging my nails into his waist, I stroked his tongue with mine.
His reaction was instantaneous.
The pantomime shattered, exploding into reality as he snatched me up andkissedme.
Properly.
Passionately.
With all the pain and pleasure we suffered.
His hand gripped my nape as his mouth opened wide and devoured me.
He went from a man vowing never to touch me, to a beast intent on eating me alive.
His need and breath and fury tangled into one impossible collision. The world spun; the maple leaves blurred to blood-red streaks. My pulse drummed against his, two wild hearts in sync for one treacherous moment.
The impact of his kiss stole the air from my lungs and left my pulse thrashing in my veins. I moaned as he angled his mouth, kissing me deeper, harder, trying to pour pain directly into me.
The orgasm he’d given me wasn’t enough.
That had just been a tease—a temptation to the real violence of how much I needed him.
My very existence shrank to the slick, hot slide of his tongue, the press of his body, and his small, involuntary groan.
He set fire to my out-of-control heart.
He kissed me messily, madly—as if this was yet another first for him just like it was a first for me.
And that knowledge—the history of why I was the only girl he’d ever kissed or touched or trusted threatened to break down all my walls.
My fingers found his shirt collar, fisting it and holding on for dear life, all while pulling him into me and begging for more.
I licked him.
His breath caught, a shudder quaking down his spine.
He kissed me harder.
We lost ourselves as the heavens opened.
Rain crashed over us.
There was no rhythm, no mercy—just heat and tongue and the brutal scrape of teeth.
The drones didn’t matter. The storm didn’t distract us. There was only this madness. This crazy, chaotic consummation.
Something inside me cracked open, flooding me in molten waves.
My fingers clawed at his shirt, his neck, needing, needing, needing.
He growled into my mouth, low and helpless.
My stomach tangled. My core clenched.
And—
