Page 332 of Elemental Becoming

His head lifts. Heat flashes across his face, and he obeys immediately.

“Yes, Amara.” His voice is ragged with need. “My fucking queen.”

His fingers curl, and the moment they find that spot, a cry tears from my throat. My spine bows as I cling to him, holding on with everything I have.

“You bring me to my knees,” he breathes, pressing a kiss to the swell of my breast, then another to the hollow between them. “You always do.”

And gods, the way he says it.

Not as a confession.

As a truth he believes.

My head tips back as the sensation builds, sharper and deeper with every passing second. My body trembles, every breath catching as the storm inside me gathers strength.

Thane leans in. His breath brushes the curve of my throat. His tongue traces a path up the side of my neck before his mouth finds the spot just beneath my jaw. I gasp, arching into him, unable to hold back.

“This spot,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the place where my collarbone meets my neck. “Right here . . . ”

Another kiss follows, lingering this time.

“This is where I inhale your scent.”

The words land just as deeply as his touch. And with his mouth against my neck, I’m helpless to stop the sound that escapes me, pulled from a place I only ever seem to reach with him.

He grinds his hip into my thigh, the thick length of him throbbing.

“What do you want me to do now?” he murmurs, his voice threaded with promise. “What do youneed?”

He draws out the last word, making it sound like a sin he’s aching to commit.

He already knows. But he wants me to say it.

“I want you to fuck me, Warlord,” I whisper, my voice carrying everything I can’t put into words. Desire. Trust. Need.

The confession hangs in the air like a fuse waiting to be lit.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach between us and curl my fingers around him.

“With this,” I add.

Thane groans, the sound deep and guttural. His eyes drift shut for a single breath, his head tipping slightly back before he blinks them open again. His eyes blaze.

So, so beautiful.

I stroke him. Once. Twice. Taking my time.

His hips buck into my hand, his cock twitching against my palm. A sharp breath slips through his teeth. Every muscle draws taut, balanced on the edge of control.

His gaze meets mine, molten and full of intent.

In a single fluid motion, he’s above me, bracketing my body with his. Heat radiates from him. Tension ripples through every line of his frame, as though he’s holding himself togetherthrough sheer force of will.

He kisses me hard, full of urgency and need, then shifts his weight. With careful pressure, he uses his knees to part my thighs. I gasp at the stretch, at the way his body settles between my thighs as though it belongs there. Then he lifts one of my legs, folding it back along his side and opening me even further.

The movement is seamless. He looks down at me, his chest rising faster now, every ounce of restraint balanced on a knife’s edge.

With one powerful thrust, he steals thought and breath alike. I cry out, my hands fisting the sheets as though they’re the only thing anchoring me to this moment.