We stood there, entangled and defiant, daring the other to first.
The air around us burned and cracked with tension, hands gripping tighter on the other, bodies pressing closer together.
A dark chuckle vibrated from his chest into my back.
“Driving me wild must be your favorite pastime,” he said at last and finally captured my lips with his.
I smiled against them.
I’d won.
The fire was unstoppable, our lips were locked and everything felt right in the world once more.
It was maddening, the kind of kiss that didn’t feel like a decision, but the inevitable.
The room blurred around us in the shades of the flames dancing on the walls.
All that mattered was the two of us.
Nothing else made sense about this connection, but the heat burning between us felt like the most natural thing in the world.
No.
Like a necessity.
His hand coiled tighter around my waist, as if it had always been meant to and we’d just been delaying the inevitable, steady and unyielding. My fingers dug harder into the back of his neck, because I wasn’t letting go for anything in the world. I wanted to anchor myself to him in this maelstrom of what our lives were, threatened at every turn, having to stand tall against the onslaught.
The world wormed itself into every aspect of our existence.
But this…this was just for us.
Almost sacred–if not for the decidedly unsanctified way he was gripping my dress and I yanked on his crimson robe.
Caught in each other, we collided into the edge of the enormous dining table, the few plates and forks which had escaped my wrath clattering on top of it.
He steadied me with one hand, before it slid up my back. Not demanding. Not gentle, either. Just completely and utterly certain.
We didn’t break the kiss, as if we were both afraid the other would vanish if we lost contact, even for a moment.
Not breaking contact, I steadied one hand on the table I’d marched on. My thumb barely grazed the edge of a plate I’d spared. I could have left it alone to live out its days gathering dust. Instead, I inched it toward the edge, the porcelain scraping against the wood.
Ryker tilted his head back, breathing haggard, lips now reddened.
“Don’t,” he warned with the voice of a man who knew exactly what match we were playing and who was controlling it.
I narrowed my eyes up at him defiantly, a grin twisting my lips, which he’d left puffy and bereft of his warmth.
The plate smashed to the floor.
My jagged grin widened.
He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, savoring the moment. The second he popped them back open, they’d darken beyond recognition.
Anticipation fluttered in my chest as he swooped down upon me once more, one hand resting at the base of my neck, thumb circling my pulse point, just where I wanted it.
“That wasn't very nice of you.” His hot lips trailed down my neck, latching onto my pulse point. “What’s mine is yours, but no need to destroy my entire fortress to get my attention. You always have it. In waking, in sleep, in battle, and in peace. You’re my only true constant.”
His hand slid up my chin, finger resting against my bottom lip, as his other palm drew soothing circles on my leg, so at odds with the sinful attention he was lavishing on the top of my body.
