Alistair bends his head to kiss my chest, nuzzling the fabric over my heart like he can make it all better with his touch alone. And for now, he does.
He’s warm and solid beneath me, and I can’t get enough. The feel of him, the intense way he watches me—my heart skips a beat.
I grab his blue-black hair, pull his head up, and kiss him for real. Slow, drugging drags of my lips against his. A hint of tongue. His hands curl possessively around my waist as we make out.
Our chemistry is always strong, but this is different. Connected on a primal level, my body moves with his as if we’ve done this a million times over a hundred different lifetimes. But it’s more than chemistry. Ali doesn’t fit with me like a puzzle piece or a well-organized drawer, he’s top-shelf tequila or bass bumping against my skin while I dance.
All gas, no brakes—and I fucking love it. I want him. Gods, I think I’ll always want him.
“I could kiss you forever, angel.”
I drop my lips to his neck. “Then do it.”
He stiffens against me, and I grin. I love testing his control. Right now, it’s all he can do not to throw me face down on the couch and fuck me into the cushions. Since that wasn’t his original plan, he’ll fight himself, and I’ll get to enjoy his struggle.
His fingers spasm against my hips. Little grunts escape his mouth, and I hide my smirk. Alistair Ashbourne may want to make out on the couch with his girlfriend, but his vampire wants to make me scream. I love it.
My fingers sink into his hair. It’s getting long, and it feels like pure silk. I grip it tightly and use my hold to move his head where I want it.
“I love it when you’re rough with me,” he groans.
I roll my hips over his growing erection. “I love seeing how far I can push you,” I admit.
“Anywhere you want,” he says. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“You,” I breathe, nipping his bottom lip. “I want you, Ali.”
“I’m already yours.”
Our mouths collide again—lips roaming, hands exploring, until the couch dips to our right. “Don’t stop on my account,” Ciprian grumbles. “I took a bad fucking deal. Alistair got to dry hump on the couch. You know what I got? A bar of soap thrown at my head.”
I giggle. “Did it hit you?”
“Of course not.” Ciprian sprawls next to us, propping his hands behind his head. His blond hair is damp from the steam of the shower. “I know how to duck.”
I open my mouth to tease him more, but Alistair isn’t having it. He growls and pulls my head down, kissing me greedily until I’m boneless in his lap and my lips are puffy and tender.
I forgot about his jealous streak. So hot.
When he scrapes his fangs against the side of my neck, mybreath catches. “Are you thirsty?” I ask. “Because I’m happy to be your snack.”
He freezes with his lips against my pulse, then swallows roughly. “Just a bit. Grind on me, angel.”
I rock my hips, choking on a moan as his fangs pierce my neck. Desire floods my body, taking my arousal from a simmer to a boil in seconds. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the blinding pleasure that comes from Alistair’s bite, but I hope I don’t.
It’s like the first time every time.
Frantic, I rub my pussy on his cock, almost relieved by the layers of clothing between us. They’re keeping me from coming too fast. Barely. If he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to explode right here in Riven’s living room, where he could walk in and catch us at any time.
His face appears in my mind. Blank with shock. Would it glitch like it does when he’s overwhelmed?
My orgasm crashes over me. Pleasure batters every nerve ending, and I cling to Alistair, one hand tugging his hair while the other squeezes his shoulder.
He growls into my neck, bucking against me wildly as he comes.
“It’s the small decisions that haunt me the most,” Ciprian mutters. “Skip sit-ups one time and end up with stage-five blue balls. Etch this on my tombstone: here lies Ciprian Casanell, dead from an erection lasting longer than four hours.”
Alistair pulls his fangs out of my neck and licks the wound closed. “I let you pick first,” he says. “It’s not my fault you picked wrong.”
