Never.The mere thought is abhorrent to me.I love her too much.When Blair gives in to our bond, it’ll be because she chooses it.
She stirs and her breathing changes, and between one heartbeat and the next, her lashes flutter open.
I brace for impact. For the shove. The slap. The fury.
But she doesn’t recoil. Her eyes are open, but they’re unfocused and soft around the edges. She’s here, but she also isn’t fully awake. This is a layer just below consciousness where the secrets live.
“I hate that I want to kiss you again,” she whispers, her voice still drowsy with sleep.
Her words hit me low and hard and threaten to awaken my primal need for her.
“Blair,” I murmur quietly.
But she’s already moving. She slides her hand up my chest, fingers tracing muscle like she’s confirming I’m real.
Then her mouth is on mine. Her lips are soft and searching, and for a second, I don’t respond. I let her decide.
She makes a frustrated sound against my lips when I hesitate, and then she shifts her weight, climbing over me in one fluid motion until she’s straddling me.
Her hair falls forward, brushing my face. The warmth of her body over mine sends a violent surge of heat through me. My hands come up instinctively to steady her at her waist.
She kisses me harder. Her body coming at mine with a hungry, desperate edge that takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep myself in check. To stay restrained. To not give in to how badly I fucking need her.
My cock is hard beneath the zipper of my jeans, and she grinds herself against me.
“Blair,” I say softly, warning threaded through her name.
She doesn’t slow. She just keeps kissing me and grinding against me, and her fingers tangle in my hair. She tastes like fucking heaven, and she feels soft beneath my hands.I want her. I need her. I love her.
She kisses me deeper, harder, and the invisible string connecting us tugs so hard I feel the pull in my spine. My body demands I take her, claim her, anchor her to me permanently.
I won’t. Ican’t.Not before she lets go of the need to hate me.
She moves her hands to the hem of the shirt she’s wearing—my shirt—and she starts to lift it.
Fuck. I have to stop this.
That’s when I move. I roll us carefully, flipping her onto her back in one smooth motion. Not rough or dominant but controlled.
Her hair fans across the pillow, her lips part, and her eyes are still that distant, dream-hazed blue.
I lower my mouth to hers again, but slower now. I kiss her like something fragile, taking the tension from hunger and desperation to soft and gentle.
I slide my hand into her hair, smoothing it back from her face. I trail my fingers down her arm, over her wrist, and back up again. I move slow and steady and in a rhythm that relaxes her.
Her breathing shifts, and she sighs softly against my mouth.
I kiss her cheek. Her jaw. The corner of her lips. And with each soft press of my mouth, the tight grip her hands have on my shirt begins to loosen.
Her body melts into the mattress beneath me. The tension drains from her limbs. A few more kisses and her lashes lower until her eyes are closed.
And a few more kisses after that and her body fully relaxes until she’s asleep again.
I stay there a moment longer, hovering over her, until I roll onto my back beside her.
The ceiling beams blur slightly as I stare up at them. My cock is still hard, and every inch of my body aches with want.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
