Page 84 of Hunted
Heat blooms through me in a rush that has no business being this intense from a kiss. But nothing about him is simple. Even restraint has weight. Even control has a pulse.
My fingers clutch at his shirtfront before I can stop myself, gripping expensive fabric because it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
His tongue slides against mine, slow and wet, then firmer. Coaxing. Insistent. My breath stutters into his mouth, and that sound seems to unravel something in him.
His hand tightens in my hair, edging delicious pain without crossing the line, claiming the angle of my head as the kiss turns deeper, fuller. Possession made exquisite by restraint. Violence flirting with the edge without stepping over it, coaxing me closer until my own control starts to fray, unleashing this manic desire that surges out of nowhere.
No. Not nowhere.
This feels older than dirt. Older than time. Which is mad.
Right?
So why am I fighting another moan while he swallows the first like he’s feeding on my breath and willingness?
Valentin’s tongue sweeps against mine again, slower this time, dragging a deeper, drugging, pussy-clenching lust through me.
And not once, not even for a second, do I feel the scrape of fang.
I hate that I notice, hate that relief floods me so hard it turns into need.
My tongue meets his, tentative at first, then bolder, because if we’re doing this, we’re doing it on my terms too. He makes a gruff sound in the back of his throat, like he approves of my audacity even as he refuses to grant permission. Hunger threads through every controlled stroke of his tongue, every slight pull of his lips against mine.
The room narrows until there is only us.
His mouth.
My heartbeat.
The wall of heat and stillness pinning me in place.
I should be thinking about escape routes.
Instead, I’m thinking about how his mouth feels like power. Like consent turned into something exquisite. Like my traitorous body has been waiting for this without telling me.
I inhale him, and it’s a mistake.
His scent deepens everything, that dark clean warmth turning my thoughts blurry at the edges as I tilt closer, searching for more, chasing it like I’m starving too.
He shifts, and suddenly I’m pressed harder against him, his muscled thigh slotting between mine just enough to steal my balance and make me cling.
Making me searingly aware that my bare pussy is right there, pressed against his thigh.
Hot on hotter.
Scent rising between us and he pulls back abruptly, silver edging closer to overtaking the darkness of his irises.
‘Sweet demons of Netheris, you’re intoxicating,’ he mutters.
Then he swoops back in.
His tongue slides deeper, his mouth claiming mine with a rhythm that feels like the beginning of something neither of us can afford.
My breath breaks.
His follows.
Then, without warning, his lips lift from mine.
