Need barreling through my senses, zinging through my veins, and throbbing between my thighs.
Our breaths were shallow.
Haggard and desperate.
If he thought I was a wildfire, Silas Mercer was an atomic bomb.
A detonation right in the middle of me.
He rocked his forehead against mine, and our noses brushed, our lips not quite making contact.
It still might have been the most intimate caress I’d ever experienced.
And I wasn’t afraid.
I wasn’t afraid.
He kept my hands pinned to the mattress, and I realized I was completely submitted to his will.
He wasn’t quite moving, but I could still feel him everywhere.
I had the very unfortunate response of spreading my legs.
A silent plea for the bulge I could feel in his jeans to make contact with my pulsing, aching center.
I had no idea that desire could be as flammable as this. Without a question, with one simple brush, I would go up in flames.
I’d be consumed.
Incinerated.
Ash.
“King.” I whispered it at his lips. A shivery, shaky plea.
What the crap? Had I just called him that without it being a sneer?
Apparently, I had since Silas sucked in the sharpest breath, and every muscle in his wicked body tensed.
A moment held.
Then he was flying off me and was standing two feet from the end of the bed before I could even process that he moved.
A foreboding silhouette in the middle of his room.
Demon or angel, I couldn’t tell.
He let his gaze travel over my panting, quivering form.
That hot, unrelenting gaze had me pressing my thighs together, searching for friction.
I couldn’t fathom that I was doing it. That this man had the power to evoke this reaction in me.
Pare me down to nothing but a needy mess in the middle of his bed.
Then one second later, the intensity shifted, and he reached down and grabbed the bag that he had left on the floor.
Disoriented, I slowly pushed up to sitting.
