Calder settles on the other end of the couch. The game lies forgotten on the table. The only sounds are the fire and the distant roar of the storm.
The quiet that settles between us is different from before.
It’s heavier. Charged.
I feel it before I understand it. A subtle shift in the air that makes my skin prickle. I glance up and find Calder watching me.
The look in his eyes steals my breath.
It’s hungry. Not in a way that scares me. In a way that makes heat unfurl low in my stomach and spread through my chest. His gaze traces over me slowly, deliberately, like he’s taking in every detail. The firelight catches in his blue gray eyes, turning them molten.
My pulse stutters. For a moment neither of us moves. The storm rages outside. The fire crackles. Bear snores softly between us, blissfully unaware of the tension tightening the space.
I hold his gaze, my breath shallow as the world narrows to the intensity of that look. The room fades at the edges until it is just him and the heat in his eyes. Something is changing. I feel it in the frantic rhythm of my heart and the slow bloom of warmth spreading under his attention, like every nerve in my body is waking up at once.
“You can’t look at me like that, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough.
I shake my head like I’m caught in a dream, but I can’t look away. My throat feels tight. “I… I’m sorry.” I blush and bite my bottom lip, my gaze dipping for half a second before I drag it back to him, helpless.
“Look at me.”
I lift my eyes immediately, my stomach flipping at the command.
“Come here, Wren.”
I push to my feet and walk to him on shaky legs, scared and turned on at the same time. I’ve been watching this man for weeks, memorizing the way he moves, the way he talks, the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. There isn’t a single thing about him I don’t like. After the dream I had of him last night, I can’t get the feel of his hands and the taste of his kiss out of my head. It clings to me, a secret heat between my thighs.
He spreads his legs as I approach, making room for me to step between them. The space feels charged, my pulse pounding in my ears. When I move close enough, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me onto his lap in one smooth motion. The sudden contact steals my breath.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Wren. Like a goddamn angel come to life.”
I shake my head automatically, disbelief and shyness tangling in my chest, but I tip my chin up so I can still see him. His eyes are dark and hungry, locked on my face like he is trying to brand the sight of me into his memory.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he says. “All these thick curves are driving me insane. Trying to keep my hands to myself has been so damn hard.”
His words settle low in my belly, heavy and intoxicating. I stare at him, entranced, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Then don’t.”
His grip on my waist tightens. “You don’t know what you’re saying, sweetheart. I don’t do soft. If I touch you, then you’re mine. Mine for good, for always. I’m a demanding bastard who likes things a certain way. So before you tell me not to keep my hands to myself, I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Each word feels like a slow drag of a match, lighting something reckless inside me. “And what is that?” I ask softly. My thoughts are hazy with want. He is trying to warn me away, but every warning only pulls me closer, wrapping around me like a promise instead of a threat.
“I need control. I’m in charge all the time. If you don’t listen, you’ll be punished. And no, I won’t hurt you, but you’ll know better than to misbehave next time. I’ll take care of you like you’re the angel you are, but what I say goes.”
A shiver runs through me. The certainty in his voice makes my breath hitch. I swallow hard. “Okay.”
He laughs darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. “Okay?”
I nod, my fingers curling against his shoulders to steady myself.
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t think you know how depraved I can be.”
My pulse jumps. “Show me.”
“I will. But I’m doing it knowing I’m a bastard. I won’t be able to let you go,” he says. His hand slides up to the back of my neck, warm and firm, and he pulls me in. His lips meet mine in a kiss that is slow for half a heartbeat and then suddenly hungry.
A soft moan slips out of me as he slips his tongue into my mouth and takes control of the kiss. The world tilts and I melt into him, my body going pliant in his hands. He grips my hips and shifts me so I’m straddling him, the movement deliberate. I feel the hard press of him at my center, the friction sending asharp spark of heat through me. I rock forward without thinking, chasing that sensation, my breath breaking.
“You still want more, baby girl?” he growls against my mouth.
