I laughed once against his mouth before kissing him again. Bad decision. Because this time he lost the remaining thread of patience completely. His grip tightened sharply while he walked us backward toward the massive bed near the center of the room without breaking the kiss once.
The back of my knees hit the mattress first before he leaned over me, one hand planted beside my head while the other still held tightly against my waist. The position should have felt intimidating. Instead it felt electric. Because the look in his eyes right now wasn’t cold. It wasn't cruel. It was hunger. Focused entirely on me.
“You have no idea,” he said softly while staring directly into my eyes, “how difficult it has been pretending I didn’t want this every second.”
Something about the honesty in his voice hit harder than the actual touching. Because I remembered: the apartment. the hoodies. the strawberries. the quiet domestic moments. He’d wanted me through all of it. God. I grabbed the front of his shirt again before pulling him down into another kiss hard enough to interrupt his thoughts completely.
Good. His composure deserved to suffer too. The kiss turned messy while his hand slid beneath the loosened fabric at my waist, fingertips brushing against bare skin for the first time tonight.
The contact sent heat rushing through me instantly. And judging by the sharp inhale he took against my mouth,it affected him too. Then without thinking, I shifted closer against him. Tiny movement.Still, his entire body tensed afterwards. His forehead dropped briefly against mine while one rough breath escaped him.
“…Eva.”
The warning in his voice only made my pulse worse.
“What,” I whispered innocently.
“That was not innocent.”
“That sounds like an assumption.”
His eyes lifted back to mine. Dangerous again. Completely wrecked. And for the first time all night, restraint no longer seemed like an option.
The silver firelight flickered softly across the room while his body stayed pressed over mine, one hand gripping my waist hard enough to keep every breath between us uneven.Neither of us was thinking clearly anymore. That much became painfully obvious the second I moved against him again. Roughly now,his entire body reacted instantly.
A rough sound escaped him low in his throat before his forehead dropped briefly against my shoulder like he was trying to survive his own self-control collapsing in real time.
I tilted my head slightly, fingers sliding through the dark hair at the back of his neck. “You’re losing composure again.”
“You are actively causing the problem.”
“That sounds like blame.”
“It is to blame.”
Then his hands tightened against my thighs again before pulling me closer against him with enough force to make my pulse jump. The friction alone nearly destroyed every remaining coherent thought in my head. God. The room felt too hot. Or maybe that was just him.
Because now every movement between us carried unbearable tension. Slow pressure. Sharp breathing. His mouth against my throat while his hands held me firmly enough that I could feel how badly he was struggling not to completely lose control.
His lips brushed beneath my jaw again before he murmured quietly against my skin:
“You have no idea what you do to me.”
The roughness in his voice sent heat straight through me instantly.
“Sounds dramatic.”
“You are grinding against me while saying that.”
Oh. Right. I had been. The realization should have embarrassed me. Instead it only made me want to do it again. So I did it again.
His reaction was immediate. His entire body tensed sharply before one hand slid hard into my hair, tilting my head backwhile he kissed me again like he’d finally stopped caring about behaving at all.
My hands grabbed onto his shoulders instinctively while the tension between us spiraled worse with every breathless movement against each other. And he pulled back a little but still close enough that our breathing tangled together. But enough space to stop us both before things completely disappeared beyond recovery.
For one second neither of us spoke. His dark eyes were half-lidded. His breathing had turned uneven. His hands still gripped my waist like letting go would hurt him. Then, quietly, dangerously he said:
“If I continue right now, I am not stopping.”
