I gritted my teeth, biting back the guttural growl climbing up my throat as I pressed my forehead against her inner thigh, trying to leash the heat clawing under my skin.
I could take her. Right now. Make her forget every man who ever touched her space, ever breathed her air.
But that wasn’t what she needed.
Not yet.
So I kissed higher, slower. Letting her feel every ounce of my restraint.
“You’re safe,” I said, voice hoarse with the weight of what I wasn’t doing. “But make no mistake—you’re mine.”
She bit her lip hard, trying to hold herself together. Her hands gripped my shoulders, and her knees buckled just slightly.
She was unraveling. And I was going to enjoy watching every second of it.
Another kiss. Higher. Softer.
Her breath caught like it belonged to me.
I didn’t want her sweet. I wanted her shattered—in a way no one else could ever put back together.
And the second she was ready to fall?
I’d be right there, pulling her into the flames.
I pressed my mouth against her through the thin lace, the heat of her body searing through the fabric like it was nothing.
She was soaked. Shaking. Absolutely wrecked, and I hadn’t even touched her skin yet.
A low growl rumbled in my chest, vibrating against her core.
“You’re dripping, princess,” I murmured, voice rough and edged in wicked satisfaction. “You know that, don’t you?”
She whimpered—pathetic and perfect—and it hit me straight in the gut.
Her body was betraying every bit of that innocence she tried so damn hard to cling to.
Good. I wanted to tear it from her one moan at a time.
I pressed another kiss to the damp lace, slow and deep, then slid my tongue out—dragged it over the soaked fabric like I had all fucking night to make her fall apart.
“Fuck…” The word left me in a groan, raw and reverent. “You taste like something I shouldn’t touch, and I’m gonna do it, anyway.”
She gasped—back arching, hips shifting like she needed more contact, more friction, more me.
Her hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging in like I was the only thing tethering her to reality.
I flattened my tongue and licked her again—harder this time. Slower. Dirtier.
Every sound she made turned into gasoline, and I was already the fucking match.
Each swipe of my tongue against her had her squirming—needy, frantic, undone.
She didn’t know what to do with it—with me.
And that?
That drove me insane.
