Doesn’t matter.
I keep moving, rolling with the momentum until she’s trapped beneath me.
One knee plants beside her hip, the other slides between her thighs while my hands pin her wrists above her head. Not enough to hurt her, just enough to stop her escaping.
Breathless, her eyes snap up to mine, bright and furious, but I keep her there, our chests rising hard and uneven against each other until, little by little, her pace slows and we start to fall into sync.
The corner of my mouth drags upward, hooking left before spreading wide.
Finally, I have her.
Finally, there is nowhere for her to go, no bloody way for her to run from this, from me.
“Now…” I murmur, lowering myself until my mouth hovers just shy of hers. “Why are you avoiding me, Thorn?”
Refusing to give in, her lips flatten stubbornly.
“I’ll keep you here all day if I need to.” The smirk never leaves my face.
“So you do intend on missing the meeting?.”Cal snarls, and a muscle ticks in my temple as I shove him back down.
“I don’t want to talk about this.” Lyra twists against my hold, but I just shift my knee higher between her thighs, pinning her more securely, then press my mouth against her ear and drop my voice to a whisper.
“Well, I’m not going to yield.”
For half a heartbeat, her body stills beneath me and like a bloody fool, I think I’ve won, but when I shift back her gaze drops to my mouth.
Once.
Then again.
Shit.
Heat starts building between us as I trap her there, and not just from my fire that’s still surrounding us, still blocking everyone else out.
“Lyra.” Her name comes out rough and I’m not sure if I'm warning or begging anymore. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” She rocks her hips beneath me in a slow grind that tears a growl straight from my throat.
“I know you're trying to distract me.” Biting down on my lip, I force every muscle rigid because fuck me—it’s working.
And she knows it.
Her eyes darken and her mouth curves as she arches up against my hold instead of fighting it, bringing her face inches from mine.
Close enough to see her pulse at the base of her throat stuttering wildly, close enough to see every beautiful freckle scattered across her porcelain skin.
For one suspended second neither of us moves, the air between us turning so thick that I’m about to yield right then and there.
But then she tilts her head, opens her mouth, and rolls her tongue over the sweat at my neck, like some kind of feral animal that’s been caged for the last seven weeks and is just as starving as I am.
Groaning, a savage rush tears through me, strong enough to make my grip tighten around her wrists, but she doesn’t stop. Her tongue just keeps dragging higher, tracing the line of my jaw, my chin until the tip of it runs across my lips.
Holy. Fucking. God.
I should stop.
I should yield.
