I didn’t finish the thought. He answered anyway. His fingers pressed deeper, finally, deliberately, and the breath left my lungs in a sharp, broken gasp.
My body arched without permission, every nerve lighting at once. My jaw slackened, my head falling back against the pillows.
He didn’t rush. He learned. Adjusted. Watched.
He found the exact rhythm that made my body tighten around him, every movement drawing me closer to unraveling. All the while, I could feel the heat and tension of him pressed against my thigh, straining for release of his own.
He grew rougher as my control slipped away.
“Don’t close your eyes.”
His voice sharpened my focus. I forced my eyes open and met his. The darkness in them was intense, unwavering. I nodded.
He didn’t look away as he moved, and when the pleasure crested, it consumed me entirely. It radiated outward from the center of me to my fingertips, my toes, and my spine. I arched helplesslybeneath him, caught in the relentless rhythm of his hand and mouth. The world narrowed to sensation and the steady burn of his gaze.
When the tremors finally eased, I found myself still staring into his eyes.
It only made the wanting worse.
I reached for him, sliding my hand over the hardness beneath his clothes. His breath hitched as I stroked him through the fabric. He shifted, spreading my legs again, fitting himself between them. The solid press of him against my still-sensitive skin made me ache anew.
My hand slipped beneath his waistband, fingers wrapping around him fully. He was hot and heavy in my grasp, the proof of his desire undeniable. I moved slowly at first, then with more confidence. His breath grew ragged above me.
For a moment, something unrestrained broke through his control and it was enough to make my breath catch.
Then it was gone.
He pulled back abruptly, breaking the contact between us. He knelt at the edge of the bed, chest rising and falling as he forced distance between us.
I pushed myself upright, but the alcohol dragged at my limbs, leaving me slumped against the headboard.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, a flicker of fear tightening my chest.
“Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes. “It’s just… we’re both drunk.”
When he finally looked at me again, his voice softened.
“I want us clear when we cross that line. The bond of our magic already clouds things. If we add this…” He gestured vaguely between us. “I don’t want to question whether it’s real.”
The mention of the bond cut through the haze of desire. I had forgotten everything except how badly I wanted him. Doubt flickered, brief but present.
He began to apologize. “I’m sorry, Seris.”
I shook my head, reaching for his hand instead.
“No. You’re right. I feel it too.” Relief passed over his features.
“Good night,” he said quietly.
Then he left.
The rejection should have shattered me, but it didn’t. I could still feel his desire, mirrored and unmistakable. This wasn’t rejection. It was restraint.
When the door clicked shut, I sank back into the sheets. My thoughts threatened to spiral, but the weight of alcohol dulledthem, pulling me under. The haze returned, and darkness followed soon after.
CHAPTER 11
SERIS
