He followed her into the narrow corridor, the space suddenly feeling dangerously small.
“Why is it so dark?” he managed, grateful for the shadows hiding the blatant bulge straining against his zipper.
“The bulb blew,” she said casually, waving a hand. “I bought a new one. I just need the ladder. Or a very tall, helpful neighbor.”
“You are not getting on that damn ladder again,” he growled. “Give me the bulb.”
His eyes adjusted to the dark, tracking the sway of her hips and the smooth fullness of her thighs with predatory intensity that nearly sent him walking into the wall. He swore under his breath and shoved the crate onto the kitchen worktop with more force than necessary.
He grabbed the damn thing and stepped back into the hallway, reaching up. Muscles flexed beneath his skin as he screwed it into place. Warm light flooded the space, sharp and revealing.
He turned.
She was leaning against the wall, watching him with open, dangerous curiosity. One arm crossed over her breasts, barely covering the straining silk. The other held another strawberry. She took a slow bite, juice catching at the corner of her mouth, her tongue sweeping it away in a deliberate, agonizing stroke.
She held his gaze the entire time.
Something inside him snapped its leash. The dragon roared, drowning out the last of his logic.
Mine.
He moved before he could talk himself out of it. He could smell her now—vanilla, sugar, and the unmistakable musk of arousal.She didn’t step back. Didn’t even blink. Every instinct screamed at him to leave—to get out before he did something reckless—but the beast was already free.
“Fuck,” he breathed, the word a ragged prayer.
He pulled her into his arms. One hand slid beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly until she was level with him. The other braced her back, his fingers digging into the silk as he claimed her mouth in a hard, possessive kiss.
She didn’t merely accept it; she met him with equal hunger. She was fire, and he was more than willing to burn. He pressed her against the cool plaster, her body yielding to his as his mouth moved over hers in a heated, unrestrained rhythm. She tasted like strawberries, sugar, and something dangerously addictive.
His hands gripped her soft, lush ass, pulling her flush against his heat. Her legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing behind his back.
He groaned against her lips—a deep, guttural sound of pure need. He needed her to understand that answering the door in silk with hardened nipples was a dangerous game to play with a male who had hoarding instincts.
He rolled his hips forward, the heavy length of him pressing against the thin silk of her shorts. He wanted her to feel the cost of her teasing—the sheer magnitude of the desire she had ignited.
“Tell me to stop,” he growled against her mouth, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that shook them both.
She didn’t. Her back arched instead, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. A soft, broken moan slipped from herlips as she clung to him, her body trembling with the same wild electricity thrumming through his veins.
The bulb flickered. Once. Twice.
Mine.
Chapter 7: Sylvie
His tongue was rough—longer and thicker than a human’s—and it explored her mouth with a rhythmic demand that sent her imagination spiraling into very delicious possibilities for the rest of her body.
She gasped, nearly sliding down his front as her knees gave out, but he caught her instantly. One arm locked around her, holding her steady with a strength that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
He tasted like mint and burnt sugar.
“I could eat you like a strawberry,” he murmured against her mouth, the heat of his breath sparking across her skin.
“You are reckless,” she breathed, though her fingers tightened in his shirt, anchoring him to her.
“You like it,” he said, low and certain. His hands braced her back, tracing shapes through the silk of her shirt. She couldn’t argue that—not when his heart was pounding against hers, a wild, hammering rhythm that matched the storm building under her skin. She could feel the massive bulge pressing against the thin fabric of her shorts, a heavy, pulsing promise of what he was holding back.
When his thumb pressed firmly into the inner curve of her buttocks, a sharp ache bloomed between her thighs.
