I grind my hips and watch as his eyes flutter shut with a ragged groan.
“And what exactly is between us?” he asks hoarsely.
I scrape my teeth along his thick collarbone, reveling in his sharp inhale. I don’t bother answering, just bracket his jaw between my palms and kiss him greedily. Tides, I’ll never tire of his taste—of how he kisses me like he’s starving.
Even shackled, he holds all the power.
His tongue delves into my mouth, coaxing a breathless moan from me. If I’m not careful, he’ll kiss me senseless, and I’ll forget my plan.
Still kissing him, I summon power into my palms.
It’s takes him a moment to realize what I’ve done.
He jerks back, eyes wide. “Skies, Mayah. You—”
“I channeled my power into you.”
His chest heaves, face twisting into something like desperation.
“Fuck, baby. I—I couldhurtyou.”
“You won’t. And even if you do, luckily, I know an excellent healer.” I slide off his lap, settling lazily across from him on the bench, legs spread wide in invitation.
His gaze drops, dark and hungry. “Uncuff me. Let me channel into you, too.” His voice is an anguished growl, but I only smile.
“Next time,” I whisper huskily. My tongue darts out to trace my lower lip. He watches, entranced. “This time, I want to be in my senses when you ravage me.”
His breathing roughens, wrists straining against the cuffs. He blinks rapidly, then drags his gaze back to my eyes.
“Why now? We could’ve done this in our bed.”
I shrug. “It’s more fun this way.”
“Want to know what I think?” he rasps. “You’re afraid to return to Tundrayn. And you want a distraction.”
I purse my lips. “Both things can be true.”
He tips his head back, eyes closed, a deep growl rumbling through his chest. When he looks at me again, his eyes are nearly black. “Pick a word. Say it, and I’ll try my best to stop.”
“Thunder.” I have no intention of using it, though.
His gaze drags over me—mouth, throat, thighs—as if deciding which part of me he wants to devour first.
“Uncuff me,” he snarls, straining against the shackles.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I croon, widening my legs. “You look a little flushed.”
He’s panting now—not for air, but forme.
“You’ve been a very bad girl, Mayah.” It’s a throaty warning through gritted teeth. “Shackling me. Channeling into me. Fuckingteasingme.” His smile is sharp. Wicked. “I’m going to have to punish you.”
Fuck. Yes.
“How will you punish me?” I breathe.
“You’re about to find out.”
With a brutal crack, the wood around the shackles splinters. My husband tears himself free of the wall like a storm breaking loose.
