“Just a graze. Been through far worse.”
“But we should stop. Make sure you’re?—”
“Nothing could stop me now, Eliza, except you.” His hand massages the top of my hip, fingers sliding and teasing lower. “That what you want?”
“No,” I whisper, heat curling low.
“They say the road to ruin is lined with primroses,” Kael grumbles deep in his throat. Gravel and velvet all at once. “But I can’t fight this anymore.”
“Stop trying.” My fingers slide into his beard, drawing him closer, my gaze locking with searing turquoise. “Make meyours, Kael Guthrie.”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
KAEL
Make me yours, Kael Guthrie.
Her words ignite inside me, setting everything ablaze.
My mouth takes hers… hungry, claiming. Her lips part on a sigh, and I sweep into her mouth, ravenous for that first taste. My tattoos hum, casting light across the dark cave walls as her hands tangle in my hair, dragging me closer—greedy, unashamed.
Her tongue finds mine, moving with me, matching me. Shivers slide down my spine, building low and tight at the base until it feels like something inside me might break.
I kiss her until we’re both gasping, breathless, wrecked. My breath pushes strands of hair from her face. Her cheeks are flushed, pupils blown wide with want.
Then she’s on me.
Those soft pink lips undoing me from the inside out. Wrecking me.
My hands move without thought, palming her, relearning every curve like I won’t get another chance. Until I find her—slick, open, aching for me. My fingers slide over her, teasing, rubbing, giving her friction until she moans into my mouth.
Frantic… desperate. Just like me.
And I feel it.
Not just her body—but her need, snapping back into me like we’re tethered by something unseen.
The bond.
One flesh. One pulse. Mind-numbing hunger.
My cock strains hard against my zipper as her small hand massages over me, stroking slow and sure. My head tips back, a rough groan tearing free.
If I take her the way I want to, I might ruin her.
But I won’t stop.
“Need you… God—so much,” I grind out as she shifts, straddling me.
She gasps at the feel of me against her thigh. “You’re too big.”
“Yes,” I admit, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “Not made for each other… but we’ll make it work.”
I slide her zipper down slow this time. Fabric bunching at her hips until I slide it away. No rushing now. No escape left between us.
Her eyes are wide, face flushed and needy—so damn hungry I feel it in my blood.
