The same hunger that burns through my veins.
“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “Not for any of it.”
My throat is too tight to speak.
We sit there on his couch, inches apart, the air between us crackling with tension. His eyes drop to my mouth and linger there. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Darius,” I breathe.
His hand comes up to cup my face. His thumb traces my bottom lip, and I gasp at the sensation.
“Tell me to stop,” he says roughly. “Tell me to let you go.”
I should. I know I should.
But instead, I lean forward. And the moment our lips touch, there’s an explosion inside me.
Darius makes a sound, low and ravenous, and his control shatters completely. His hands grip my waist, and he pushes me back until I’m lying on the couch beneath him.
He hovers over me, his body caging mine, and kisses me with such urgency, I can’t breathe. His mouth moves against mine with wild hunger, and I open for him immediately. When his tongue slidesagainst mine, heat floods through me so intensely that I gasp into his mouth.
My hands grab his damp hair, pulling him closer. Closer. Not close enough.
He makes another sound, this one almost pained, and deepens the kiss. His hand slides up my side, fingers spreading across my ribs. Everywhere he touches me, it tingles.
I arch against him, my body knowing what it wants even if my mind can’t process it.
His mouth leaves mine to find that spot where my neck meets my shoulder. He sucks it hard, and I cry out his name.
Darius pulls me up and whips my shirt off over my head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Then he looks at me, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and gold.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.
Before I can respond, his mouth is on my neck again. Kissing. Sucking. His teeth graze my skin, and I gasp, my head falling to the couch again.
My hands roam over his shoulders and his back, careful to avoid the bandaged wounds. His skin is hot beneath my palms, muscles flexing as he moves over me.
He trails kisses down my collarbone, between my breasts, and I’m making noises I’ve never made before. Small whimpers. Moans. I say his name over and over like a prayer.
Neither of us speaks beyond that. There’s something primal driving us, something that demands more.
His hand slides down my stomach to the waistband of my jeans. He undoes the button, and my lips quiver when I feel his hand go inside. Nobody has ever touched me there. I should be nervous, but it feels so good. It feels right.
My legs part instinctively, and he groans when his fingers slip between them. “You’re so wet, Violet.”
I gasp again, my hips lifting to meet his touch. His thick, rough fingers enter me, and moans escape us both. He worksme with his fingers, watching my face as pleasure builds. I’ve never felt anything like this. The sensations are overwhelming.
My hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in. I’m trembling, making urgent sounds, completely lost in what he’s doing to me. When he adds a third finger, my back arches as I whisper his name. White-hot heat explodes within me, and I’m shattering.
Darius pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, his eyes glinting. There’s a hunger there that makes me want more. Makes me want everything.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my jeans and pauses, his breathing ragged. “Tell me to stop.”
But I don’t.
He pulls my jeans down just enough, and then his mouth is on me.
His tongue is clever as he eats me out, diving into me, curling, hitting spots I didn’t know existed. I grip the edge of the couch harder, crying out. The pleasure is intense, overwhelming. My hips move against his mouth involuntarily. He grips my thighs, holding me in place as he works me with his tongue.
