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A laugh—half-nervous, half-defiant—bubbled up from my throat. “Ah hell,” I muttered under my breath. Before common sense could claw its way back through the fog of attraction, I reached out, fisting my hand in his shirt and pulling him down to meet my lips.
The kiss was an explosion of pent-up tension, a clash of lightning in the quiet storm that had been brewing between us. His lips were firm yet surprisingly gentle, like he understood the danger of playing with fire yet couldn’t resist the burn. And neither could I.
This was madness, kissing Niko Savas, tasting trouble as surely as I tasted the hint of mint on his breath.
“Damn it, Niko,” I murmured against his lips, not breaking away, my voice a mix of reprimand and raw need. But it was too late; I was already lost in the tempest that was Niko.
His kiss was like a brand, searing through my defenses as he pressed me backward with an urgency that matched the racing of my pulse. The cool surface of the wall at my back was a stark contrast to the inferno our bodies created, but it was nothing compared to the wild blaze ignited by his touch.
With a growl that vibrated against my skin, Niko’s hands were suddenly on mine, lifting them high above my head. His fingers were a cage of strength around my wrists, pinning me in place with a dominance that should have set off alarms but instead made my core clench. The power in his grip belonged to the wolf within him, a silent reminder that I was tangling with something far more dangerous than any human man.
“Is this how you handle all your negotiations?” I managed to gasp out, half-mockery, half-breathless curiosity, even as I arched into him, seeking friction where the heat between us was most intense.
Niko’s chuckle was a low rumble that resonated with the primal part of me that had always been drawn to the edge of the abyss. “Only with those who are hunting monsters,” he murmured, his breath hot on my face, a promise of more heat to come.
In the heated cocoon of Niko’s office, with my hands captive above my head and his body an unyielding shield against mine, I felt the edge of my shirt being lifted. His movements were swift, a predator’s precision paired with a lover’s hunger. The sound of fabric tearing was shockingly loud in the quiet room as my bra gave way to his strength, the underwire snapping like twigs beneath a boot.
“Damn,” I whispered, half in protest, half in awe. That bra had been one of my favorites—sturdy, reliable.
I was losing all my best clothes to the men in my life.
Riker…
But as the cool air caressed my now-bare skin, any regret was swept away by the tide of desire that followed Niko’s touch.
His mouth descended upon me with a heat that rivaled any fire I’d ever danced around. The sensation of his lips, hot and insistent, drew a gasp from my throat. He licked at the sensitive flesh with the same fervency he might have used to claim territory, and suddenly, I was grateful for the wall supporting my back as my legs threatened to buckle.
“Te dije que eras peligroso,” I managed to breathe out, the Spanish slipping through where my English failed, a testament to the way he unraveled my composure. I said you were dangerous.
With each pull of his mouth, my world narrowed down to the electric connection between us, the only sounds in the room the soft, wet noises of his attentions and the ragged symphony of our breaths. My body became a map of wanton pressure points, each tug sending sparks cascading through my veins, lighting fires that only he could start—and perhaps quench.
“Keep talking,” Niko murmured against my skin, the vibrations sending another shiver down my spine. “I love the sound of your voice...”
The compliment slipped into the haze of my mind, settling there with a smug satisfaction. Even amidst the chaos of ravenous kisses and clashing wills, I couldn’t help the crooked smile that pulled at my lips.
His lips left mine, tracing a fiery path down my neck that singed every nerve ending. I was lost in the sensation, the edges of reality blurring when his fingers worked with surprising gentleness at the button of my jeans. A sharp contrast to the earlier violence against my bra, but Niko Savas was nothing if not full of surprises.
“Let’s see how dangerous I can really be,” he whispered, dark promise lacing each word.
With deft movements, he unhooked the fastening and lowered the zipper. It felt like peeling away layers of my very soul, leaving me exposed not just in flesh but in spirit. The heat between us spiked, my jeans surrendered their hold and pooled around my feet. He nudged them aside with a kick, all while maintaining that unyielding grip above my head.
I was pinned, utterly at his mercy, and a shiver of anticipation raced down my spine. This was more than a hunt—it was an awakening.
With his other hand—not the one that held me captive—he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small square packet.
Niko’s restraint was a thin veneer, and it cracked like ice under the heat of our passion. With a swift motion, his clothes—a perfect blend of tailored elegance—became nothing more than shreds of fabric cascading to the floor. He stood before me then, a paragon of unleashed power and raw masculinity that set my blood on fire.
My gaze swept over him, drinking in the sight of his hard, muscled body, each line and curve a testament to the beast within. The moonlight filtering through the blinds cast a silvery glow on his skin, highlighting the rippling strength of his shoulders and the tightness of his abdomen. I could feel the heat emanating from him, as tangible as the flame of a candle held between us.
“Santa Madre,” I whispered, the words slipping out in a mix of reverence and desire. My hair clung to my sweat-slicked forehead, but all I could focus on was Niko—the way the air seemed to shiver around him, how his piercing blue eyes held mine with an intensity that promised no escape.
“Like what you see?” he growled, a corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk that belied the predatory look in his eyes.
“Your werewolf laundry service might need a new business model,” I rasped out, despite the hunger gnawing at me. “But I can’t say I’m complaining about the results.”
His laughter was a low rumble that vibrated through the room, sending a thrill down my spine. I wanted to touch him, to trace the contour of his muscles with my fingertips, to explore the landscape of his body that spoke of wild nights and fierce battles.
The office around us faded into insignificance, its sleek lines and modern design swallowed by the primal scene unfolding within its walls. This wasn’t just another hunt; this was a communion of spirits, a clash of worlds where the line between human and monster blurred into irrelevance.
