Page 133 of Alpha's Rejected Warrior
She kisses me again, harder this time. Her hands slide down my chest, dragging over every ridge underneath the fabric of my shirt. Her touch is raw and possessive in a way that makes my blood run hot.
“The ceremony starts in a few hours.” Her words are warm against my lips.
“Plenty of time.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “You need to rest. Olcan’s orders.”
“Olcan said no training, no guard duty, no heroics.” My hands grip her ass, pulling her tighter against me. “He didn’t say anything about this.”
Her laugh flutters against my chest, low and real, the kind she only lets slip when her walls are down.
“You’re impossible,” she says, but her body says something different. Her hips roll against mine in a grinding rhythm that makes my vision blur around the edges.
I press her back against the stone wall, my mouth finding her neck. She tips her head, exposing more skin, and I work the laces of her vest loose one by one.
None of it is fast or frantic.
Each cord I pull is a deliberate choice.
She watches my hands work with her golden-brown eyes tracking every movement, and she doesn’t rush me. She doesn’t grab my wrists and take over the way I half-expected. She just breathes, and lets me.
Thatwrecks me more than anything else could.
Her vest slides off her shoulders. Then her undershirt. Then the leather strap across her ribs. Each layer gone reveals more warm, freckled skin, and I follow every scar I find with the flat of my thumb: the long one across her left ribs, the crescent-shaped one at her collarbone, reading her history like braille.
Her hands find my hem. She pulls my shirt up and over my head, and when her palms press flat against my chest, she goes still.
She isn’t grabbing or demanding. Only feeling my heartbeat.
Her pupils are dilated, swallowing the amber of her irises until only a thin ring of gold remains. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven breaths, her lips full and parted. A flush crawls up her neck and spreads across her cheekbones.
She’s stunning.
I lower my mouth to her chest, cupping both breasts in my hands, their warm weight settling against my palms. My tongue traces a slow circle around one areola, then the other, mapping the texture of the pebbled skin while Rhiannon shudders above me.
“Ethan,” she stutters, already losing herself in my touch.
She gasps when I close my lips around her left nipple, drawing it into my mouth with steady pressure. Her flesh is impossibly soft against my tongue, smooth and yielding, and I savor it. I savor the taste of sweet salt on her skin, the taste ofher. My right hand finds her other breast, my thumb andforefinger catching her nipple between them, rolling it in slow, firm rotations.
“Fuck.” The word punches out of her in a moan that bounces off the stone walls.
I suck harder, flicking my tongue across the peak while my fingers mirror the rhythm on the other side. Her back arches off the wall as she presses more of herself into my mouth, her fingers digging into my scalp. Her moans build, low and guttural. There’s nothing performative about them — just raw, unguarded sounds of pleasure dragged out of a woman who usually never lets herself be anything less than composed.
Suddenly, both her hands grasp my shoulders and propel me backward.
I stumble, blinking. “What—”
My back hits the wall behind me before I can finish my sentence. Stone bites into my shoulder blades, and Rhiannon pins me there with her full weight: one hand flat against my sternum, the other already working my belt open.
Her lips crash into mine, her teeth catching my lower lip with a sting before her tongue slides past and envelops mine.
She yanks my pants down my thighs without breaking the kiss, her fingers strong and efficient. The fabric pools at my ankles.
She wraps her hand around my shaft, and I lean forward, already hard and growing stiffer within her grip. Her thumb massages the head in a slow circle that pulls a groan from somewhere deep in my chest.
Apparently, my body’s response to being physically overpowered by a supernatural predator is enthusiastic approval.
But I knew that already. I made peace with it weeks ago.
