He groaned into my mouth, his hands immediately moving up to tangle in my hair. I felt it then—the truth of us. We were an inferno together, unstoppable and consuming. Tongues and lips clashing, teeth scraping, neither of us holding back. We were fire and ice attempting to devour each other, each trying to melt or freeze the other in equal measures of passion that felt dangerously close to worship.
I grabbed his shirt and pulled him over me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He made an approving sound deep in his chest as I felt the hard length of him press against my core through the thin fabric of his sweats.
It was glorious. Sinful. Not nearly enough.
I couldn’t get enough of him—his taste (mint and something darker), his scent (pine and clean male musk), the solid weight of him settling between my thighs.
“We should talk more—” He tried to inject reason into the chaos, pulling back enough to search my face.
“Fuck now, talk later.” I gripped the hem of his shirt and lifted it off him, raking my nails down his firm torso.
He was beautiful. I loved the way his muscles rippled underneath my fingertips, the way his abs contracted when I scraped across them, the small sharp intake of breath when my nails found his nipples.
“Violet.” His voice came out strangled, somewhere between a plea and a warning. “Your body is reacting from opening up and sharing your trauma with me. That combined with last night—”
I nibbled his jaw. “Don’t fuckingpsychoanalyzeme right now, Rowan. I want you.”
His breath hitched. “I will not last long after last night. We should not do this when you have been so upset. There is more we should discuss—”
I bit into his shoulder, my teeth sinking into the junction where his neck met muscle. His body quivered, and he went silent.
When did I gain so much power over him?
The realization was intoxicating, headier than any drug. He showed me his desire freely, without restraint or shame, and I wanted to bathe in it.
“I am choosing this, Rowan.” I released his shoulder, admiring the perfect impression of my teeth in his skin. “I want you to fuck me.”
I felt him shudder, his whole body trembling against mine. “Nyet, wait, Violet. I might—”
I reached down and cupped him through his sweats, enjoying how hard and thick he felt against my palm. His cock jumped at the contact, and I couldn’t suppress my smile.
“I want your cock in me, filling me to the brim.” I stroked him slowly, feeling him throb and thicken. “I want to feel your balls slap against me while you—”
He shuddered again, more violently this time, and I felt moisture gather near his head, soaking through the fabric.
I looked down, then back up at him, surprised and delighted. “Did you just—?”
“Fuck.” He glared down at me, but there was no real anger in it. “Now you have done it.”
His infuriating smirk played at his lips despite the flush staining his cheeks, despite the small sheen of sweat gathering at his temple.
“Did you?” I asked again, wanting to hear him say it.
He let out a low laugh that I felt vibrate through his chest and into mine. “I challenge any mannotto after spending an entire night with you, followed by you whispering filthy things in their ear while gripping their cock.” He shuddered again, his eyes closing briefly. “It has been hell and bliss in equal measure.”
I couldn’t help the way my body responded—nipples going tight and aching, the throb between my legs blooming into a need I couldn’t control. “Can we keep going?”
“Of course.” His eyes opened, darker now, pupils eclipsing the pale blue-gray. “Though I might need to tie you down to keep you reigned in. You are fucking dangerous.”
My breath caught. “Does that upset you?”
“You are perfect, Violet.”
My heart clenched at the words, at the raw honesty in his voice. I squeezed him once more through the damp fabric of his sweats, eliciting another groan that shot straight to my core.
Addicting. This is addicting.
“Then tie me up, Rowan.”
