She wanted… more.
Of him.
His taste was intoxicating, a heady mix of wine and something distinctly his own.
Malum pulled back, just enough for the cool air to slip between them. His breath mingled with hers, warm and uneven, as he stared into her eyes, searching for something—permission, perhaps, or maybe answers she wasn’t sure she had.
His features were achingly familiar now, yet somehow, more striking up close. The faint hollow beneath his cheekbones, the slight curve of his lips, the way his silver eyes seemed darker, deeper—like she could drown in them if he’d let her.
“What?” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.
His gaze lingered on hers, unguarded in a way she hadn’t seen before. “I’ve been imagining this…” His brows furrowed. “Since you fell on me in the library.”
“You have?”
He nodded. “Every damn night.”
Her fingers brushed against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her palm. “I… I have too.”
“Have you?”
She nodded. “Yes.” She felt her cheeks burning, but then his hand came up to cup her cheek.
“You are so much more…” he murmured. “So many surprises...”
And then his mouth found hers again, stealing any words she could find.
Every thought she’d ever had about propriety or caution dissolved like mist under the sun.
“Melanie…” he whispered, the rawness in his voice reverberating through her.
His hands were everywhere at once. One skimmed the curve of her waist, tracing the line of her ribs over her gown, while the other remained tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She felt consumed, cherished, and completely undone.
And when his mouth abandoned hers again, a desperate ache surged through her, as though a vital connection had been severed.
“No! I need…” But she couldn’t say it out loud. Could she?
When he tried to remove his weight, she tightened her hold around his neck. “I want…”
She wanted to cradle him between her thighs, to keep on feeling the sensation of heavy pressure right…
There.
She rocked her hips, and then…
He drew back and rolled onto his side.
“Noooo…!” But he halted her cry by pressing a fingertip to her lips.
On his side, resting his head in one hand, he dragged that finger down her chin, oh, so slowly over her chest, around her breast, and then lower, to her belly.
Along his path, he drew very deliberate circles.
Moving lower with each one.
“What do you need, Melanie?” His touch, so light as to seem accidental, was not accidental at all. “What do you want?”
His questions turned her blood into liquid fire. Every inch of her skin screamed for his touch.
