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“I know you’re not asleep.”

“I’m trying to be.” His eyes are shuttered as he peers up at me, the blue irises stony and devoid of emotion.

I run my palms over my breasts and let my thumbs brush the peaks. My hips roll in a figure-eight that tautens my undergarments, intensifying the ache between my legs. I’ve never explored myself much, but in my current awakened state, I want to know everything my body can do, experience every possible sensation…and I want Agnar to help me.

He tracks my hands before closing his eyes again. “Esme. Please. Don’t.”

The plea slams through me like a bolt of raw power. Not rejection. Not disgust. Please. Like he’s the one who needs mercy.

He wants me.

He wants me so badly, he has to close his eyes. Has to sleep on the floor instead of the bed because he doesn’t trust himself near me.

I have power here, control over the way he’s feeling. I’ve never had either in my entire life. My head buzzes with newfound possibilities. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re about to do.” The tendon in his neck flexes.

I reposition myself so I’m standing directly above Agnar and straddling his hips. “I’m tired of you deciding what’s good for me. What I can do. What I can know. What I can handle. People have been doing that my whole life.”

He opens his eyes and pulls himself into a sitting position, his breath ghosting over the apex of my thighs.

My legs shake, and I worry I’ll collapse on top of him like a fool.

“You think I’m being noble? Protecting you?” His grip tightens on the tender flesh of my inner thighs, and lightning jolts up my spine. “I’m protecting you from me.”

I trap his hands in place when he tries to remove them from my thighs. “Protecting me from what I want is just caging me. Is that what you want? To keep me tied up and restricted?” I’ve no idea where the words come from, but they feel real.

He surges up from the floor in one fluid motion, rising between my legs like a leviathan surfacing from deep water. His body forces mine backward, step by stumbling step, until my shoulders hit the wall. I gasp in shock and a little pain.

The sudden rush disappears like a magician’s rabbit, the hat upended to reveal nothing inside. Pinning me to the wall, Agnar proves my sense of running the show was always an illusion.

He pins my wrists above my head with one hand. His other hand circles my neck. He doesn’t squeeze, but the threat remains. His thumb strokes the throbbing pulse in my throat.

I possess no power here, only an all-consuming desire. His body lies flush against mine, encompassing me with his bulk, and I smell residual smoke and sugar on his clothes from the festival.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice is low, almost gentle, shooting straight down my spine and causing me to shiver. “Because once I start…” Agnar’s thumb curls into my pulse, conveying an implicit promise, “I might not feel like stopping.”

I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this alive. My pussy throbs. My nipples ache. My entire body blazes like I’m standing too close to a fire.

The smart thing would be to take his advice. I can push him away, climb into that bed alone, and pretend this never happened.

But I’ve spent my whole life doing what other people decided was right for me.

I’m done with that part of my life.

“Don’t stop.”

The transformation is instantaneous. The man I knew, with his jokes and easy smiles, vanishes. In his place, I find a creature of want and desire, dark-eyed and panting, welling over with power. The fear trickling through me only intensifies my yearning for the forbidden.

Agnar grabs the hem of my undershirt and yanks it upward. The fabric catches under my chin and tangles around my face. Before I can react, he twists it and stuffs the end into my mouth. The taste of my own sweat and the spilled hullberry juice fills my senses.

He attacks my left breast like a starving man. His teeth graze the curve before his mouth closes over my nipple and sucks. My back arches off the wall, the gag muffling my whine. Fire rages through my veins.

His tongue torments my nipple while his teeth graze its edge, never quite biting but threatening it constantly. He cups my other breast, alternating between pinching and plucking my nipple.

I moan again and squirm, the sweet torment inside me already building to a fever pitch. Agnar catches my hands above my head again, pinning me to the wall. I can’t even wrap my legs around him. There’s nowhere to go. Nothing to do but accept this. The lack of control weakens my legs, so I sag against him, leaving him in charge of keeping me upright as I gasp and whimper through my gag.

His mouth travels to my other breast, and he buries his face in my flesh, suctioning so viciously that I bet a bruise forms within minutes. The heat of his mouth and rough scrape of his beard consume me, the pressure amplifying until I think I might break.