Page 68 of Burned

I shove those stretchy black pants—no panties—down her thighs—thank god for spandex—not bothering with grace.

She kicks free of them, nearly knocking over a plant. My belt opens under her hands. My zipper follows. We are both moving too fast now, angry and hungry and desperate to turn words into something the body can understand.

But when I push inside her, she plants a hand against my chest.

I freeze.

Instantly.

Her breathing is ragged. Her face flushed. Her thighs spread around my hips. My cock is still inside her, wrapped in the silky heat of her perfect pussy, and every muscle in my body is screaming to thrust.

But her hand is on my chest.

I stop.

“What?” I ask, voice raw.

“This doesn’t make me yours.” Her eyes hold mine. “Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want more,” she whispers. “I want a future with you. With us. All of us.”

“I want that too.” I move my lips to hers. “And I’m not just saying that because your pussy is locked down on my cock in a way that makes me want to fuck you till you scream.”

She draws me closer. “Then do it.”

As I fully enter her, I hold her gaze. The first thrust steals the air from us both.

She is tight, wet, hot, clinging to me like she has been made for this exact form of ruin. I grip her hips and hold myself still, buried deep, forcing both of us to feel the moment instead of running through it.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “Move,” she says. “Please,” she says finally, “Fuck me already.”

I nearly come from that sexy, raspy voice of hers. I move. Hard.

She cries out, and I catch the sound with my mouth. The sofa rocks beneath her.

Outside, snow falls beyond the glass, silent and indifferent. Inside, she is heat and fury and every reason I am no longer fit to make rational decisions.

I thrust into her again, deeper, and she wraps her legs around me.

Mine. Not because I bought her. Not because I command it.

Because she chooses to hold onto me. Her arms tighten around my neck, her legs lock around my waist like a vice.

I catch her wrists again, pinning them at her sides this time.

She strains against my grip. “Lucian.”

“You want to fight?” I ask.

Her gaze is liquid heat. “Yes.”

“Good.” Dragging my hips against her, I slow, deliberately. Then, I stop.

She makes a furious little sound. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“Tell me what you need.” I stare down at her, memorizing every detail of her pretty face.