I am drifting off when he kisses the top of my head and lifts me up. Engulfed in his powerful arms, he carries me back inside, where he helps me out of his coat.
He doesn’t ask; he simply takes me to his bedroom.
“Quite presumptuous,” I say, voice heavy with sleep.
“I didn’t hear a no.”
Something tells me I could not deny him anything, which is terrifying, even though his presence is thrilling. A combination custom-made for the reckless.
As he places me on the bed, I moan, loving the silk sheets caressing my skin.
He undresses, sleep instantly fading away.
Planes of muscles ripple with each inhale, carving his body, skin glowing gold in the moon’s light as if casting a spotlight on such a magnificent male specimen. He looks so hot, my mouth waters.
His eyes twinkle with mischief, aware of his effect.
My hormones bathe in his luxurious presence, viscerally affecting me as he takes his time, oblivious to what it means to rush or hurry—used to things always going according to his plan, his will. He emanates a silent power from having already proven his worth.
It’s quite addictive.
In just his boxer briefs, he slips under the covers. His body emanates so much heat.
I squirm, feeling all over the place—emotionally, physically, mentally. Torn between wishing to stay and needing to leave. Where to flee where he wouldn’t find me. Remaining will ensure I can somewhat control the situation.
He drapes an arm over my belly and pulls me to his side, ending my distress.
“Will you…we?” I stammer, unable to ask. Wanting it to happen again, but terrified of this getting out of hand.
He chuckles, kissing the side of my head. “So eager for me?”
“No.” I hesitate. “I…”
“Don’t lie to me,” he says, flicking a strand of hair back to nibble my neck.
The sensation rushes straight to my toes, curling. My clit throbs incessantly.
“Just curious,” I say breathlessly.
“You have access to my body like I have to yours. Free use.”
This sounds even more dangerous.
“Yeah?” I murmur.
“Mm-hmm,” he says, sounding hoarse and trails a finger up and down my belly. “But I’m in no hurry.”
I whip my head toward him. “Don’t you want me?”
His hand curls around my throat, holding it there. Witnessing that silent warning makes me an even hotter mess.
He rocks his hips, and I feel him hard behind me. “Is this proof enough? I want you not only to want me but to crave me.”
I already do.
In his own way, he courts me, which is so sweet. My heart quickens—a cadence dipping and lifting with every syllable of his name.
I turn in his arms, palming his cheek. “Thank you.”
