"Mine.” His fangs were out. The beast fighting to break free.
One word. That was all I got before he began to move—pumping into me with the relentless power of the beast he was, each thrust driving the air from my lungs, rocking my entire body with the force of his passion.
I loved it. Loved every hard thrust, every guttural grunt that escaped his throat, every moment of overwhelming fullness.
I loved the way his fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he held me in place, anchoring me for his possession. Loved the way my breasts bounced with each impact, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through my over-sensitized skin. My body felt impossibly tight, impossibly swollen, so sensitive that just the friction of his huge cock moving inside me had me hovering on the edge of another precipice.
I reached down between us, finding my clit with trembling fingers. One touch. Two. The orgasm roared through me like a rocket launch, blasting through my consciousness with devastating force.
He fucked me harder then, deeper, his control finally snapping under the relentless pressure of his own need. I didn't know where to put my hands, how to hold on, how to survive the storm he'd unleashed between us.
I settled for gripping his wrists. I wondered what it would feel like when my fingers wrapped around the solid metal of his mating cuffs. The idea filled me with emotions I wasn't prepared to feel—wasn't sure I could survive feeling.
Safe. I felt safe in his arms, protected by his massive body, cherished by the intensity of his focus.
Like I belonged to something other than myself, something larger and more meaningful than the lonely existence I'd known before him.
Important. He made me feel important, treasured, worth the kind of devotion that spanned galaxies.
There would be no escaping this alien, this beast. He had chosen me as his fated mate. Sealed my fate as surely as his body sealed itself inside mine.
I didn't want to escape. I embraced the truth. Released all the tension I'd been carrying, all the fear and doubt and uncertainty.
I was his forever. He would take care of Derek. He would take care of me.
The thought should have terrified me. Instead, it set me free.
I relaxed into his thrusts, my body going soft and yielding beneath his strength. I gave him everything—my trust, my surrender, my heart. Let him take what he wanted, what he needed. Let him claim me completely, bury his body in mine, find his own peace.
When he finally found his release, when he threw his head back with a roar that sounded like my name, I held him through every shudder, every spasm, every moment of vulnerability.
Afterward, when our breathing had slowed and our hearts had steadied, he didn't pull away. Instead, he gathered me close, wrapping his massive arms around my smaller frame, cradling me against his chest like something precious.
"Mine," he whispered again, but this time the word was tender, reverent, filled with emotion that made my eyes sting.
"Yours," I agreed, pressing a kiss to the sweat-slicked skin of his shoulder.
We were thousands of miles away from Miami, from Derek, from the stupid hotel and all the contestants. The paparazzi. Reporters. Nosy hotel staff.
Right now, he was mine. Totally, completely mine.
I wrapped my arms around his head, cradled him to me, and we slept.
15
Egon, Miami, The Next Day
* * *
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The sound echoed through our suite like gunfire.
“Egon! Tori! I know you’re in there!” Chet’s voice carried through the door, muffled but unmistakable. “Open up! It’s a matter of national security!”
Tori froze in my arms. “What did he just say?”
Her body had been warm against mine only seconds before—soft, responsive, breath coming faster as I had pressed her back against the couch. Now tension rippled through her frame.
