Page 117
Nash notices.
His smile turns dangerous.
“See something you like?” he asks.
I lift my left hand, the diamond flashing on my finger. “I said yes, didn’t I?”
His expression changes.
Heat, love, hunger, devotion. All of it moving through the bond so clearly I nearly lose my breath.
Then he’s over me again.
He kisses me deep, letting me taste myself on his mouth, and I wrap my good arm around his neck. My injured shoulder twinges, and he feels the tiny flinch instantly.
He pulls back. “Switch me places.”
“You are not allowed to make that sound like a tactical command right now.”
“It is a tactical command.” His mouth brushes mine. “I want you comfortable.”
“I don’t want comfortable.”
“No?”
“I want you.”
The bond snaps taut.
His restraint cracks.
He shifts us carefully, rolling onto his back and pulling me over him so I’m straddling his hips. The movement keeps my shoulder from taking weight, and it puts me above him, in control.
Of course it does.
Of course, Nash Cross, alpha, mercenary king, impossible bastard, would hand me control at the exact moment every instinct in him must be screaming to claim.
He looks up at me, chest rising hard, hands settling on my hips.
“We go at your pace,” he says.
My throat tightens.
The bond hums between us, warm and open and alive.
This is not a cage.
This is him beneath me, giving me everything. His body. His trust. His hunger. His restraint.
His choice.
And mine.
I reach between us, wrap my hand around him, and guide him to me. He makes a rough sound that nearly undoes me.
I sink down slowly.
Inch by inch.
