“Is this okay?” I asked, suddenly uncertain.
“More than okay.” His voice had roughened. “But I need to know what you want.”
I threaded my fingers into the thicker fur at the nape of his neck. “I want you. All of you.”
He groaned softly, the sound vibrating through me. His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer as he claimed my mouth again, more urgently this time. I pressed against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest through our clothes. The kiss deepened, and I shifted in his lap, drawing another groan from him when I inadvertently rubbed against his growing arousal.
“Sorry,” I gasped, not sorry at all.
“Don’t be.” His breath was hot against my neck as his lips trailed down my throat. “But perhaps we should move somewhere more comfortable.”
My heart pounded at the implication. “Your bedroom?”
He nodded, then in one fluid motion stood up with me still in his arms. I let out a surprised laugh, wrapping my legs around his waist for stability.
“Show-off,” I murmured against his ear.
“Practical,” he corrected, but I could hear the smile in his voice.
He carried me through the labyrinthine corridors with ease, turning down hallways I hadn’t explored before. His bedroom, when we reached it, was a revelation—spacious and minimalist, dominated by an enormous bed with dark blue linens. One wall was entirely glass, looking out into the darkened forest.
Rion set me down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering at my waist. In the dim light, his eyes glowed with an almost primal intensity that sent a thrill through me.
“We can stop anytime,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.
I reached for the top button of his shirt. “I don’t want to stop.”
His breath hitched as I undid the first button, then the second. I worked my way down, revealing more of his chest with each one. The sight of him bare-chested stole my breath. His torso was a landscape of muscle, covered in short dark fur that was thicker across his powerful chest and shoulders. A faint scar ran diagonally across one pectoral, silver against the dark fur. He was magnificent—part raw animal power, part elegant strength, all beautiful.
I traced the line of the scar with one finger. “What happened?”
“Long ago,” he said, his deep voice rough with desire. “Doesn’t matter.”
I looked up at him, at the vulnerable honesty in his eyes. “It matters to me.”
But rather than dwell on it, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against the scar, then another against his heart. I felt the steady, powerful beat beneath my lips, the warmth of him against my cheek. He shuddered, one hand coming to rest on my back, the contact sending another wave of desire through me.
My exploration continued downward, my fingers tracing the defined muscles of his abdomen, the hard ridges that spoke of incredible strength. I’d never been particularly drawn to muscular men before, but this was different—this was the form of someone who built things, who moved with purpose and precision, who carried not just physical strength but the weight of centuries.
His breathing grew heavier as my touch became more intimate, the careful control he maintained beginning to fray at the edges. I could feel the tension coiled in his massive frame, the restraint he was exercising even now, with me in his arms.
“Your turn,” he growled, his large hands moving to the straps of my sundress.
I nodded, and he slid them carefully down over my shoulders. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and underwear—the matching set that suddenly seemed like a very good decision.
His gaze traveled over me, appreciative and hungry. “You’re beautiful.”
The sincerity in his voice made me bold. I stepped closer, and his hands came up to cradle my head, gentle despite their size.
“Clara,” he whispered, tilting my face up to his. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
The vulnerability in his admission touched something deep within me. I rose on tiptoe to kiss him again, pouring everything I felt into it.
We tumbled onto the bed together, my smaller form enveloped by his larger one. His hands explored me with reverent care, as though I might break if he pressed too hard. I arched into his touch, wanting more.
“You won’t hurt me,” I assured him, guiding his hand to my breast.
“I’m always afraid I might,” he confessed, but his touch grew more confident, cupping my breast through my bra before reaching behind me to unfasten it.
