The backs of his fingers graze my jaw—barely, the lightest possible contact, and my breath leaves in a sharp, audible exhale.
His eyes stay on mine. Dark and steady and waiting. Before he finally answers. “It tells me that I haven’t been clear. So let me clarify.”
Chapter five
Rafail
Her breath hitches—a tiny, fractured sound that cracks open the space between us. My thumb strokes the frantic pulse in her throat.
"You asked what I want, Jana." My voice drops to a raw rasp. "You challenged me. Now you get the answer."
I don't give her space to reply. I don't give her space to think. I erase the last inch of air between our bodies and back her toward the wall. Her hands come up to my chest—a protest with no force behind it. Her palms are flat against me, but she doesn't push.
She's testing. I'm done being tested.
Her back meets the cool plaster. Trapped. Her eyes are wide, dark, and full of a war between defiance and dawning awareness.
"Rafail—"
"Don't." The word is a blade. I press into her, letting her feel all of me—the hard proof of the restraint I've been holding on to for two days. Her breath shudders out. My hips cage hers. My hands go to the wall on either side of her head. I lean in, my mouth hovering a breath from hers.
"You want to know if this is about desire." I dip my head, my lips grazing her ear. Her body tenses—a full-body pull that rolls through her like current. "Or control."
I slide one hand from the wall to her throat, my thumb finding that pulse again. Rapid. Erratic. A wild, panicked bird beating against its cage. I don't squeeze. I just hold. A claim.
"The answer," I murmur against her skin, "is both."
With my other hand, I find the hem of her shirt and slowly, deliberately, push it up. She sucks in a sharp breath, her hands finally gripping my arms. A real protest this time.
"No. Wait."
I pause, my knuckles brushing the bare skin of her stomach. I meet her eyes. "Wait for what? For you to throw more ridicule on my patience? For you to use another man to provoke me? You wanted me to take you. You knew what letting another man in your space would do to me. If you didn’t know, you’re going to learn." I lift her chin, because this is too important for ambiguity. “If any man puts his hands on you, even a pinky, he’s dead.” I lean in closer, sliding my hand to her throat and letting my eyes pin hers. My breath fans her cheeks. “Now, ask me again, if I want you.”
She whimpers, but doesn’t answer. “Jana, do I want you? Am I burning for a taste,” I suck her bottom lip into my mouth. “A lick,” my tongue trails over her cheekbone. “A bite of you?” I ask, pressing a soft bite to the apple of her cheek. “I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been in my life. And Jana, I’ve known stomach-pressed-to-spine hunger. But nothing like this.”
I push the shirt higher, over her ribs, until it bunches under her bra. The muscles in her stomach ripple as I trace the line of her ribs with one finger, and her eyes close. Her control is slipping. Good.
My mouth finds hers. Not with force—with the slow, grinding pressure of inevitability. Her mouth drops open, but her lips aretense. I lick my way inside. Stealing laps of her tongue until I’m not taking, but she’s giving. Then, I swoop fully inside. Claim her mouth and pull the response I want. Need.Crave. She whimpers into my mouth, and her fingers uncurl, her hands sliding from my arms to my shoulders, holding on.
That's the only signal I need.
My restraint snaps.
In one fluid motion, I hook my arm under her knees and lift her against the wall. She gasps, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist. I carry her into my bedroom and drop her on the bed.
Before she can recover, I'm on her—my knees on either side of her hips, my weight settling over her. I rip her shirt the rest of the way off, the sound of tearing fabric sharp in the taut silence. Her eyes are huge, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow pulls.
I unfasten my belt, my gaze never leaving hers. "Two weeks." I pull the belt free from its loops. “Less than two because I’ve been patient. But my patience is gone."
Her defiance flares one last time. "I'm not a thing you can just—"
I catch her wrists and pin them together above her head, holding them easily in one hand while I loop the belt around them, securing them to the headboard. She struggles—the movement futile, only serving to arch her back and push her breasts against my chest. "You signed. I paid. That conversation is over."
I unhook her bra and toss it aside. Her nipples are already hard peaks. My mouth closes over one and she cries out—a raw sound of shock and pleasure. I suckle hard, biting down just enough to make her gasp, marking her. I move to the other, laving the peak with my tongue before drawing it into my mouth. Branding.
Her hips begin to move. A slow, unconscious roll against me. Her body knows what it wants, even if her mind is still at war. I told her my patience was over; I lied. I’m not giving her what she wants, what we both want. Not yet. Not until I have taken her very soul. I will own Jana Spears. I bring her breasts together, going back and forth between them. Suckling in her responses, greedy for more. And she’s so responsive. My little virgin rolls around on the bed, undulating against me as I nurse. Pulling her nipples into long raisins. No, not raisins. Cinnamon sticks, sharp, sweet and spicy. I adore her taste, feast on it as she raises and arches, feeding me more while her hips twist and thrust.
I leave her breasts and drag my mouth down her stomach, across the waistband of her jeans. I unbutton them, unzip them, strip them down her legs, taking her panties with them. She's bare beneath me. Slick. So fucking wet.
