Nothing at all.
“Gods, Raina.” He closes his hand over my breast in a possessive grasp. “I want you.”
I don’t intend to make him wait.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man—been with Finn— but instinct becomes my guiding light. I lean down, pressing my naked body against Alexus’s bare chest, and trail my tongue along the column of his throat. In response, he whispers my name, a choked, desperate sound, like he can’t take much more when we’ve only just begun.
I love the way my name sounds falling from his lips. I want to make him say it a hundred times more. I want him to beg me to kiss him, beg me to take him, beg me to never stop.
He grazes his rough palms over my shoulders, curves those long fingers around my ribs, and I arch against him, my skin tingling when his touch slides down my back and over my hips. Digging his fingers into my backside, he presses all that hardness between my legs, making me shiver, making me want.
This is desperation. Desire so enthralling that I roll my hips over and over, demanding and greedy, feeling like I might die if I don’t feel him inside me soon.
He slips his hand between us, tugging at the ties of my trousers. Breaking our kiss, I lift my hips for him, and he slides his hand inside the leathers.
I close my eyes on a gasp, letting him touch me where I want more of him. He’s deft with that hand, and in seconds, I’m climbing toward the point of no return.
This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be the Witch Collector drawing such damp heat from my body, making my mind numb to anything but the ache he’s stoking like a fire. That thought evaporates as he presses his teeth into my shoulder, returning my soft bite from earlier, and dips his hungry mouth to my breast. I move against his touch, chasing the promise that lives in the feverish swirl of his tongue, the rough tip of his finger.
He drags his teeth from my breast and kisses a scorching path to my ear.
“Don’t stop. Take what you need.” His lips move hot at my throat, and then close over my mouth, swallowing my sighs.
That feels like a dangerous invitation. What I need isn’t his hand, as good as it feels.
I stop and take a breath, gathering myself enough to think beyond the desire clouding my mind. We might not live through these next days—this refuge won’t last forever. This could be my last time to feel this sort of pleasure.
His touch falls still. “What’s wrong?”
I pull his hand from my leathers.
“Did I do someth—” I lean down and kiss him, temporarily silencing him as I reach between us and unlace his britches. “Raina...” My name drifts in the form of a warm breath across my lips. “This isn’t—” I slip my hand inside his pants and touch his silky, hard length. “Fuck, yes,” he groans, pushing his cock into my touch.
His breathing hitches, but in all truth, when I slide my hand down a little more, it’s me who falters.
Alexus Thibault is not an average man—in any way. Part of me shivers with nerves at the thought of being with him intimately while another part thrills at the idea of having all this throbbing hardness inside me.
He cups my face and stares into my eyes. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do my damnedest to give it to you.”
I hesitate, only because I’m a little intimidated. Lust and intrigue win out, however, as I close my fingers around his cock and squeeze.
His eyes flutter, half-closing in bliss before he blinks them open and takes a deep inhale. Again, he looks at me, sliding his hand down to encircle my throat with a gentle, yet promising touch. “Are you telling me you want me to fuck you?”
My heart beats so fast, slamming against my chest, and hearing him talk like that only makes it pound harder.
After the mustering of a little bravery, I nod and trail my fingers up his shaft. A drop of slickness has pearled at his tip, and when I run my thumb over him, smoothing the wetness over his swollen head, he flinches, and his cock twitches in my hand.
“Gods’ death, you are torture on a man’s resolve.” He draws me down for another mind-bending kiss before pulling away to speak. “If we do this, you have to swear that you won’t hate me afterward. For any reason.”
I cross my heart and stroke him again, eliciting a groan. And finally, I see it: the decision in his eyes, and the hunger in his gaze.
I’m forced to let go of him and brace myself as he runs his hand up my side and captures my breast in his grip again. Kneading and squeezing, he rubs my nipple between his fingers until the sweetest sensation zings through my body, straight to my clit.
When I gasp, he smiles with one side of his lovely mouth. “I like taking your breath. I’m going to do it so many times tonight. Are you ready for that?”
I’m not. Yet I am.
I’m terrified. Yet I cannot wait.
