“You shouldn’t say things like that to me, sweetheart.” The term of endearment flows off my tongue easily, naturally.
“Why not?” Her voice is small, hopeful, and she bites back a grin.
I exhale sharply. “Because I’m hanging on by a thread here.”
The silence between us stretches, and I’m so incredibly aware of her. Of her breathing, her scent. The way the moonlight spills over her, turning her hair to liquid gold, her skin to something soft and touchable. Fuck me, she’s young. Too young. And yet, the thought of walking away from her now feels like tearing out a piece of myself.
I can’t think straight. The bond pulses between us, a living thing, but it’s not just the magic—it’s her. The way she looks at me, so sweet and innocent. I can see the yearning in her eyes. Her admission that she’s had a crush on me for months doesn’t help. At all.
I step closer to her, even though I know I shouldn’t.
“Norah…”
Her name is a warning. A plea. I don’t even know anymore.
She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just tilts her head up, those big brown eyes locked on mine. “You don’t have to protect me from this,” she whispers. “I know that’s what you think you have to do. That you feel guilty for the bond.”
My throat tightens. I want to argue. Want to tell her she doesn’t understand. But the words die before they leave my lips.
I stare at her mouth. Her lips are parted, soft and pink, and I can’t look away. She sways toward me, just an inch, but it’s enough. The bond flares between us, hot and insistent, like a heartbeat.
I should step back.
I don’t.
The last thread of my control snaps when she lets out a soft, trembling sigh that goes straight to my cock.
I don’t think. I just lean in.
The first brush of my mouth against hers is slow. Testing. A question. Her lips are even softer than I imagined. She makes a small sound, something between a whimper and a plea, and then her hands are fisting in my jacket, pulling me closer.
That’s all the answer I need.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, tasting her. She moans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me, and I groan in response, low and rough. My hands move without thought—one braces against the tree beside her head, the other gripping her waist as I cage her in.
She arches against me, her body pliant and eager, and I press her back into the rough bark. The kiss quickly turns messy, desperate. My teeth scrape her bottom lip, and she gasps, her nails raking down my chest. My tongue slides against hers in a filthy rhythm, hungry and relentless.
I’m devouring her. Like I’ve been starving for her.
Because I have been.
My hand slides from her waist to her thigh, lifting it and hooking it around my hip. She rocks against me, the unmistakable heat of her little pussy pressing against my aching cock, and I groan into her mouth. The friction is torture, but I can’t stop. I grind against her, my hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts, and she whimpers, her fingers twisting in my hair.
I want to fuck her. The need to get inside her is overwhelming in its intensity.
Her taste is intoxicating—warm, sweet, like honey and something uniquely her. I can’t get enough. My tongue strokes hers, slow and deep, and she shudders against me, her body trembling. I break the kiss just long enough to trail my lips down her throat, nipping at the sensitive skin beneath her ear. She gasps, her head falling back against the tree, and I lick a hot stripe up to her jaw.
“Fuck, Norah,” I growl against her skin. “You feel incredible, sweetheart.”
She moans, her hips rolling against mine, and I can feel how wet she is, even through our clothes. The thought of her, slick and ready for me, makes my cock throb. I grind harder, my breath coming in ragged pants, and she whimpers, her fingers tightening in my hair.
“Rowan—” My name is a broken plea on her lips, and it nearly undoes me. She’s never called me by my first name before, and hearing it like this…holy fucking hell. I want more.
The glow from my wrist flickers in my peripheral vision, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Norah’s fingers are still tangled in my hair, her body arched against mine like she’s trying to fuse us together. Her breath comes in sharp, needy gasps, and that sound nearly shatters what’s left of my restraint.
I kiss her again, hard and desperate. She moans into me, her hips rolling against mine, and I can’t stop myself from grinding into her. My cock throbs, aching, and as I grind against her I canonce again feel her wetness. She’s soaking through her leggings for me. She’s just as lost to this as I am.
The mark on my wrist burns hotter, brighter, like a brand. It’s not just glowing now—it’s pulsing, a living thing responding to the way she’s trembling against me, the way her nails rake over my scalp.
