Patrick reappears in the doorway, fully human now with his torn shirt hanging open and blood drying on his skin. His amber eyes find mine immediately, and he crosses the room in three long strides before his hands cup my face and tilt it so he can examine me.
“Are you hurt? Did he touch you? Did he get close enough to—”
“I’m fine.” The words emerge shaky and thin. “He didn’t touch me. You stopped him before he could.”
“I heard you scream.” His thumbs stroke across my cheekbones, and I realize he’s trembling. This massive, deadly man who just killed with his bare hands is shaking as he holds my face like I’m something precious. “I was at the stream, and I heard you scream, and I thought—”
I wrap my fingers around his wrists and hold on. “You came. You heard me, and you came.”
“I will always come. Do you understand that? No matter what happens between us or how angry you are or how much distance you need, I will always come when you need me.”
I should be terrified. A man just died three feet from where I’m standing, and the one who killed him is covered in blood and still wild around the edges. Every rational thought screams at me to push him away, to create distance, to protect myself from the overwhelming flood of feelings threatening to pull me under.
Instead, I kiss him.
I don’t think about consequences or weigh what it means or consider what comes after. I just rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his, and the moment our lips meet, something inside me finally stops fighting.
Patrick goes still for one heartbeat. Two. Then his hands slide from my face into my hair, and he kisses me back with a hunger that steals what remains of my breath.
This isn’t like our first night together, driven by curiosity and the thrill of the forbidden. This is need, pure and desperate, and I feel it echoing through every nerve in my body until I can’t think past the ache of wanting him.
He pulls back just far enough to speak my name against my lips. “Are you sure? After everything that’s happened—”
“Stop talking.” I fist my hands in his ruined shirt and yank him closer. “I don’t want to think right now. I just want to feel you.”
He growls low in his throat and lifts me off my feet. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me to the counter, and he sets me on the edge before stepping between my thighs with the hard length of him pressing against my center through too many layers of fabric.
I tear at the remnants of his shirt, yanking it off his shoulders and down his arms until I can get my hands on bareskin. Blood still streaks across his chest and shoulders, and the sight of it sends a dark thrill racing through me, because he shed this blood protecting me. He killed for me. Whatever else stands between us, that truth is simple and absolute.
Patrick pulls my dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but my bra and underwear. His eyes travel down my body with a hunger that makes me feel powerful instead of exposed. I’ve always carried uncertainty about my curves, about the softness of my stomach and the fullness of my thighs, but the way he looks at me now dissolves every doubt I’ve ever had about whether I’m desirable.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He traces his fingers along my collarbone, down between my breasts, and across the swell of my stomach. “I’ve been losing my mind trying not to touch you.”
“Then touch me.” I reach behind my back and unhook my bra, letting it fall away so nothing separates his hands from my skin. “I’m done pretending I don’t want this.”
He cups my breasts in his palms, and the rough calluses drag across sensitive flesh as he kneads and strokes. His thumbs brush over my nipples, and I arch into the contact with a gasp. He leans down and takes one peak into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make me cry out as my fingers dig into his hair to hold him exactly where I need him.
“More.” The word comes out breathless and needy. “I need more of you.”
Patrick releases my nipple and sinks to his knees in front of me. He hooks his fingers in my underwear and drags it down my legs before tossing it aside without looking where it lands, and then he spreads my thighs wider and stares at my center with naked hunger written across every line of his face.
“I’ve been dreaming about this.” He presses a kiss to the inside of my knee that makes me shiver. “About tasting you.” Another kiss lands higher on my thigh, closer to where I’m aching for him. “About making you come on my tongue until you forget why you were ever angry with me.”
“Patrick—”
He licks a long stripe through my folds, and whatever I meant to say dies in my throat. I fall back onto my elbows because holding myself upright becomes impossible as he works his mouth against me with a thoroughness that leaves no part of me unexplored. His tongue circles my clit before dipping lower and pushing inside me, and I moan.
He devours me like I’m the first real sustenance he’s had in days, and he intends to savor every taste. His tongue and lips work together until I’m writhing on the counter with my thighs shaking on either side of his head. He slides two fingers inside me while his mouth focuses on my clit, curling them to stroke against the spot that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
“Oh, God.” I fist one hand in his hair while the other holds on to the edge of the table. “Right there. Don’t stop.”
He adds a third finger and increases his pace, fucking me with his hand while his tongue drives me higher with every stroke. I’m so close I can taste it, hovering on the edge of something enormous, and every movement of his fingers pushes me closer to the point where I’ll shatter.
“Come for me.” His voice vibrates against my flesh in a way that sends shockwaves through my entire body. “I want to feel you fall apart.”
I shatter with a scream that tears from somewhere deep in my chest. My inner walls clench around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through me, and he works me through everyspasm with his mouth and hands until I’m shuddering and gasping on the counter. My body trembles with the aftershocks, and I can barely catch my breath before he’s rising to his feet with hunger still burning in his amber eyes.
Patrick unfastens his belt and shoves his jeans down, and his cock springs free, hard and thick and leaking at the tip in a way that makes my mouth water despite the orgasm still pulsing through me. I reach for him and wrap my fingers around his length, stroking from base to tip, and the groan he releases makes me clench around nothing.
