I do.
His eyes glow amber in the low light, catching the fire as if it lives inside him. In this quiet, I can finally admit how much that has always both frightened and drawn me.
“You are not the same as before,” he says.
He lowers himself over me, bracing most of his weight on one elbow so the fullness of him does not crush me, but there is no mistaking his size. The sheer space he takes up. The heat rolling off his skin. The way my legs have to part to accommodate him naturally, instinctively.
His scent fills me. Leather, smoke, and that metallic musk that is uniquely Tigris.
“Kaiven...”
“Sha,” he says. “Come.”
His thumb traces the line of my throat, then the pulse fluttering wildly there. “This is what I wanted. Right here.”
My hands find the hard planes of his shoulders, the scarred skin over muscles that could break me if he ever let go of control. He never will. That knowledge settles like a stone in my belly, heavy and good.
“I was afraid before,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper against his skin.
“Of me?”
“Of what I’d become if I let myself want you this much.”
He makes a low sound in his chest, something like a growl, but softer. “You will become my Anari. My Vel. You will become my heart. There is nothing to fear in that.”
My head dips, and I kiss him again, deeper now, a slow claiming that makes my toes curl in the furs. My tongue strokes his, tasting, learning, owning. I let him. I welcome it.
My body loosens, melting under the slow heat building between us. Every touch is intentional. His palm flattens over my belly, possessive, then drifts lower. I arch into it, a silent invitation he accepts instantly.
Fingers brush between my legs, finding me already slick, already wanting. I gasp against his mouth. Kaiven’s control is absolute, but I can feel the tremor that runs through him at my readiness. A predator’s satisfaction.
“Already wet for me, Sahri.”
His breath is hot against my ear.
“You feel it too, don’t you? This thing that lives between us. It was never a bargain.”
He shifts, moving down my body, leaving a trail of fire with his mouth. My breast, the curve of my stomach, my hip. I watch him, mesmerized by the sight of this powerful male nipping at my skin, tasting me as if he needs to memorize my flavor.
Then he is there, between my thighs.
His shoulders are so broad I feel the stretch all the way up my spine. He looks up at me from that vantage point, his eyes dark with need.
“I will taste you here,” he says, not a question.
My breath hitches. I nod once, a sharp, jerky motion.
His thumbs part my folds, exposing me to the warm air and the intensity of his gaze. There is no shyness left. Not after the storm, not after the truth.
The first touch of his tongue is electric.
A slow, deliberate swipe that makes my entire body go taut. Kaiven doesn’t rush. He explores.
My hips lift off the furs, a silent plea for more. He gives it. The flat of his tongue presses against my clit, circling, then sucking gently. My hands fly to his hair, my fingers tangling in the thick strands.
“Kaiven…”
“Vah,” he murmurs against me. Stay.
