Ronan stood before it, before me, his body sculpted and bare. A masterpiece of effort, not simply inheritance. Every line, every ridge of muscle earned, not gifted. Curls clung to his brow, making the jade in his eyes burn vivid.
He looked unearthly, too primal to be real.
It was the same power I’d felt the first time I stood in his presence, when even the air itself had seemed to bow. It took everything not to sink to my knees and crawl to him.
To surrender. Tobeg.
But Ronan didn’t want me crawling. He didn’t want my submission. Not to him. Not to anyone. He wanted my force. My teeth. My will. Wanted me unbroken, unbending, his equal, not his shadow.
That’s why he waited across the room, watching me with fire in his eyes and restraint in his limbs. Why he hadn’t touched me when we sifted into this dimly lit chamber. Why he had only stepped back, letting me choose.
He was giving me the choice. The power. The burn of control.
And gods, a part of me loved him for it.
I rushed to him like he was the breath missing from my lungs, like my chest would cave if I didn’t reach him. My hands glided up, weaving betweenthe swirls across his chest until my fingers found the chain at his throat, tugging lightly as I rose on my toes, until my lips brushed his.
“I do not wish for a savior,” I whispered into the heat of his mouth. “Not tonight.”
His smile broke against mine, hands curved to my ass. “Good.” His voice was a promise of lust and no mercy. “Because I’m already halfway gone.”
Effortlessly he lifted me, tossing me onto the bed where I sank, already reaching for the strain of him, for the hardness I ached to claim—
He caught my wrist gently, stopping me before I could. “No,” he said. “Tonight, I worship you.”
Before I could agree, his mouth found me, lips marking a path down my throat, over the swell of my breasts. A feral want bloomed when his lips closed around my nipple, his teeth grazing until a cry tore from me. His other hand slid between my thighs, fingers slipping with ease, curling into me as if he’d always known exactly how to wreck me.
Then the smoke came. It slid from his wrist, a cool breath in the dark, drifting between my thighs where his fingers left untouched. The tendrils teased, circling the swollen ache just above where I pulsed for him.
It wasn’t just touch. It wassensation. Slick and shadowed heat, rolling over the most sensitive part of me with a mind of its own.
A gasp broke free, my body working into its rhythm. His fingers moved with ruthless precision, palm pressing just enough, while the smoke traced circles of devastating pleasure. The two together, flesh and phantom, undid me.
Tension knotted in my core before snapping and I shattered beneath him. My hands fisted the sheets, voice breaking raw as it consumed me, dragging me under until all that remained was his name burning in my throat.
Ronan watched, every twitch, every cry, with love soothing into the lines of his face. Chest heaving, he sat back on his knees, his cock hard and proud between us.
“I love the way you feel across my hand,” he rasped. “Like liquid silk.” He brought two glistening fingers to his lips, sucking them into his mouth while he moaned greedily against them. “And the taste of it—” His eyes grew heavy-lidded. “Like the gods sweetened you just for me.”
The sight of that alone would be my next unraveling.
A smoldering tremor rolled off him and through me before he even touched me again. “More,” he demanded.
He moved, hooking my legs over his shoulders, lowering himself until his mouth replaced his hand. The drag of his tongue was slow and sinful across where I throbbed for more, forhim.
Smoke followed, delving deeper, teasing inside me even as his tongue worked in maddening movement. My thighs trembled, clenching around him,fingers tangled in his hair, clutching, as my body pulsed hotter against every stroke.
“Oh gods,” I moaned, far too loudly than I meant to.
I felt the curve of his satisfaction against me. “It’s just me and you here, love.”
His mouth left me only to chart a path upward, kissing over every line etched across my belly, each press of his lips a promise. He reached my mouth, so close I could taste myself lingering on his lips—
—and then he flipped me.
His mouth found my flesh, kissing the carved length of my spine until my hips lifted on their own, offering. Then lower still, his lips admiring the curve of me, biting lightly, teasing before his tongue found me again.
A whimper cracked out of me when he stopped, only for him to grab a fist of my hair, pulling, guiding, until my back arched just the way he wanted.
