It’s charged.
His grip shifts slightly, his thumb pressing just enough to tilt my head back a fraction, his gaze dropping briefly to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes.
“Not here,” he says.
“Why not?”
“Because if I start,” he replies, his voice tightening just slightly, “I’m not stopping.”
That should make me step back.
It doesn’t.
“Then don’t stop,” I say.
That’s the line.
That’s the point where everything changes.
His hand tightens just enough to pull me closer, the distance between us collapsing in a way that feels less like movement and more like inevitability. The heat of him is immediate, sharp against the cooler air by the river, and for a second everything else—the noise, the fight, the pressure—falls away under the weight of it.
His forehead presses briefly against mine, breath uneven now, not controlled the way it usually is.
“You don’t make this easy,” he mutters.
“I’m not supposed to.”
A quiet exhale leaves him, something close to a laugh but without humor.
“Good,” he says.
Then he closes the distance.
The contact is not soft.
Not hesitant.
It’s deliberate, controlled in the way everything he does is controlled, but there’s something under it now—something less measured, more immediate. His hand shifts from my jaw to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I feel it all at once—the heat, the pressure, the sharp edge of something that’s been building without either of us naming it.
I grip the front of his armor without thinking, grounding myself against something solid as everything else tilts just slightly out of place.
This isn’t safe.
None of this is.
When he pulls back, it’s not far, just enough that I can see the shift in his expression, the control snapping piece by piece.
“I want you, now,” he growls, eyes blazing so hot they threaten to melt me where I stand.
“I am yours,” I say between heavy pants.
“Mine,” he says, pulling me into his embrace. His mouth is on my own, stealing my breath with a kiss both hard and sweet. His tongue claims my mouth, exploring like a conqueror. I kiss him back, my hands moving on their own to unbuckle his belt.
“They might attack soon,” he says in a sudden display of uncharacteristic caution.
“Then it’s good that your weapon is already fully unsheathed,” I tease. His response is to crush my mouth with another kiss. He grabs me under the thighs and lifts me up onto a waist high stone wall.
It’s a good thing I didn’t tie my trouser laces so tight this time. He tugs the laces until they slacken and wastes no time in pushing his fingers into my dripping wet, wide open pussy. I moan into his mouth as he explores this place, too, priming the way for his throbbing rod.
