“Yes.”
The word barely left my mouth before he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. His mouth claimed mine, patient at first, then desperate. The kiss was anything but gentle. All the tension that had built between us—every look, every touch—snapped like a live wire.
My hands slid up his hard chest, feeling the strength beneath. The world outside the door didn’t exist anymore. There was only the warmth of his body, the hum of the bond, and the thrilling thought that maybe I didn’t want to fight this.
There was nothing hesitant in him now, only purpose and a hunger that made my entire body tremble.
Cristian deepened the kiss until I forgot what air was. He was all I needed. My fingers tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer. The sound that left me wasn’t graceful; it was need made audible.
He pulled back just enough to study me, his breath unsteady. “Is this all right?”
“Yes,” I said. “I want you.”
He caught my mouth again, slower this time, like he was memorizing the shape of every sigh, every tremor. When his lips left mine, they traced lower, down the curve of my neck where my pulse beat wildly, helplessly.
“Your heart,” he whispered, “is in uproar.”
“And you like that.”
He smiled against my skin and kissed the place where my pulse thundered hardest. The contact stole all the air from my lungs. I felt his breath first, then the faint scrape of fangs, and then… heat. Sharp, dizzying, exquisite heat.
The bond lit up inside me, flooding every nerve. It was a slow unraveling of thought until all I could do was feel.
He made a low sound against my throat, the kind that vibrated through me. “Breathe, Nadia. You’re safe,” he said softly, voice rough. “Stay with me.”
So I did. I let go.
His mouth slowed, the pull at my throat softening until it was no longer hunger but devotion. He healed the mark with a final sweep of his tongue, sealing the wound as his hands found my shoulders.
When he drew back, his eyes weren’t wild anymore. They were dark with need, with reverence. His fingers traced the line of my collarbone, the top of my dress—a question without words. I nodded once, breath caught somewhere between fear and wanting.
He began to undress me. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t claiming, more an unmaking of the distance between us. Each piece of fabric left behind felt like an offering.
His hands skimmed the places he revealed, as if memorizing what had been hidden. Every movement of his mouth was tender, worshipful. He trailed kisses down my neck, over my shoulder, across my chest.
“You undo me,” he whispered against me, and I forgot what it meant to hold still.
My skin learned his touch inch by inch, his mouth finding the places that made sound tremble in my throat.
The world around us disappeared as his lips followed the line of my collarbone toward my heart. A soft moan escaped my throat at the sensation, unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through me. He paused, inhaling sharply as if savoring the taste of my skin. “You taste… immaculate.”
Then, with a gentle yet determined movement, he traced his tongue along the swell of my exposed breast. “Tell me what you need. I want to give it to you.”
I gasped at the intimate touch and arched my back involuntarily, pressing myself closer to him. I yearned for his touch. “I… want you. Please.”
The warmth of his breath fanned over my sensitive skin, sending tingles racing across it. He circled his tongue around my nipple, teasing and tormenting it until it hardened under his touch. His other hand moved up to cup my jaw, holding me in place as he took one hardened peak into his mouth and sucked gently. A low groan vibrated in his throat as he laved attention on both nipples before moving lower.
The words that fell from his mouth as he ran his tongue down the center of my stomach were like a litany of worship.You’re safe. You’re perfect.Let me take care of you.My entire body shuddered as he trailed his hands down my stomach, tracing every curve and dip with his fingers.
At my hipbone, he paused to leave a kiss. “Every part of you is precious to me,” he whispered.
My breath caught in my throat. The swelling anticipation inside me threatened to consume me entirely. “I love how you touch me. Like I matter.”
He groaned in approval as he nudged me onto the bed and moved to kneel between my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
The warmth of his breath brushed against the soft flesh of my stomach, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me as his fingers traced their way down. I gasped when he reached the dampness between my thighs, and he gave me a knowing smile before replacing those skillful fingers with his tongue. He teased and explored, tasting my desire, making me writhe with need. Every touch was electric; it felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, like time had frozen and all that mattered was this moment.
All that mattered was him.
