“Don’t stop.” She punctuated the words with another nibble, no softer, no less demanding. “Don’t you dare stop.”
His restraint cracked. His hands clasped her thighs, his hips pressed forward, crushing her against the wall.
“We should—” He tried to speak, but she claimed his mouth again, swallowing whatever reasonable thing he’d been about to say.
She didn’t want reasonable. She wantedhim. The man who looked at her like she was both salvation and damnation.
Emma broke the kiss just long enough to gasp. “Should what? Talk about it? We’re done talking, Zach.”
She rolled her hips against his hard length, deliberate and demanding, and something dark and hungry flashed across his face. His pupils blew wide; his normally gray-blue eyes now hammered slate, smoldering with need.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice was gravel and smoke, barely recognizable.
“Don’t I?” She did it again, his erection hard and ready against her core, straining against his zipper. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through her body. “I’m asking you to stop hiding behind excuses. Stop pretending you don’t want this as much as I do.”
One of his hands released her thigh, sliding up her side, over her ribs, deliberate and possessive. Even through her shirt, his touch burned. A warrior's hand, palm rough with calluses, the hand of a man who trained daily with weapons. And it trembled as it mapped her curves.
“You have no idea,” he rasped into her mouth, “how much I want this. How many times I’ve thought about—” He cut himself off with a harsh sound.
“Tell me.” Emma grabbed his face, forced him to look at her. “Tell me what you’ve thought about.”
His jaw clenched. For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t answer.
“This. You against a wall, looking at me exactly like you are now. Your legs wrapped around me. The sounds you’d make when I—” His breath was ragged in her ear. “I’ve thought about it so many fucking times I’ve lost count.”
The confession sent heat flooding through her. To know that he craved her, had been tormented by wanting her while maintaining that infuriating restraint—it was intoxicating.
“Stop thinking,” Emma commanded, “and do something about it.”
Something in him snapped. She saw it happen—the moment the chain cracked.
Zach’s mouth crashed into hers again, but this time there was nothing held back. This was claiming, possession, raw need unleashed. His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head to the angle he wanted. His other hand gripped her thigh hard enough to bruise, holding her where he needed her as he ground against her.
The friction was maddening. Perfect and absolutely not enough, as the ache between her thighs grew insistent.
Emma yanked at his shirt, pulling it up. They had to break the kiss for him to tear it over his head, and she whimpered from the momentary loss of contact. Then her hands were on his bare skin, and coherent thought scattered.
He was all sculpted muscle and old scars, the hard body of a warrior. She traced the bullet wound on his shoulder, the knife scar across his ribs, claiming each mark as part of the man she wanted, her lips following her fingers.
“My turn,” Zach said roughly, and before Emma could respond, he grabbed the hem of her shirt and stripped it overher head. It hit the floor somewhere behind him. His gaze raked down her body, and the heat in his eyes sent her own temperature soaring.
“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered, almost to himself. His mouth was on her throat, her collarbone, moving lower with devastating intent.
Emma’s head fell back against the wall as sensation overwhelmed her. Every kiss, every nibble, felt like a brand, like he were marking her as his. His stubble rasped over sensitive skin; the slight burn made everything more vivid, more real, morenecessary.
He took her breast in his mouth through the thin lace of her bra, tugging at her sensitive nipple. Her moan begged him to continue as her fingers dug into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks she hoped he’d see tomorrow and remember this.
“Zach—ah—” She couldn’t form complete sentences. Didn’t need to. Her body said it all.
He growled, and her entire body vibrated in response. His hands were everywhere—her back, her waist, sliding up to unhook her bra with surprising dexterity. The garment fell away, and nothing remained between his hot mouth and her except air and demand.
“Look at you,” he nuzzled her breasts, savagely licking and sucking the tips to hardened pebbles. “Perfect. So damn perfect.”
Her nipples tightened further, and she arched her back, thrusting her breasts more tightly into him. Zach groaned—a hungry sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He raised his head, met her eyes. “How hard it’s been to keep my hands off you?”
“Then don't,” Emma demanded. She reached between them, found his belt buckle. “Touch me.”
