The sight of him made my mouth go dry. Broad shoulders. Defined muscles. Short, soft-looking, dark hairs in the center of his chest that ran in a trail down the center of his stomach to disappear into the waistband of his jeans. Black ink tattoos covering his pecs and right arm. Olive skin marked with old scars—evidence of the violence he'd survived, both as a human and a vampire. Those marks made him real, flawed in a way that mirrored my own hidden wounds, and it stirred something inside me.
"You're staring," he said, his lips quirking into that small, knowing smile.
"You're beautiful," I whispered, my voice unsteady.
"Says the woman who looks like she was carved by the gods." He advanced, walking me backward until my legs hit the bed. "Sit."
The commanding tone in his voice sent a shiver through me, but I obeyed, perching on the edge while he knelt again, this time between my legs. His hands worked the button of my jeans, then slid the denim down my hips and over my thighs, taking my boots and socks with them in one smooth motion, leaving me in nothing but black underwear.
"Lie back," he commanded softly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.
I did, my pulse thundering as I watched him stand and remove his own jeans with those quick, efficient movements that still screamed restraint, because I knew he could move so much faster than that.
The sight of him in just tight black boxer briefs, the clear outline of his arousal pressing against the fabric, the thick head peeking over the waistband, sent heat pooling low in my belly, along with a sharp spike of terror. This was real. This was happening. And gods, I wanted it, even as fear clawed at me.
He crawled onto the bed, covering my body with his. The skin-to-skin contact made me gasp. He was warm, so much warmer than I'd expected from a vampire, the hair on his chest as soft as it looked, and everywhere we pressed together burned with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
"I want to touch you," he murmured against my throat, his breath hot. "Tell me if you want me to stop."
"Don't stop," I breathed, my voice trembling with need and nerves.
His hand trailed down my side, fingers tracing the curve of my waist, my hip. Then up again, skimming over my ribcage until he cupped my breast in his palm. His thumb brushed over the nipple, and I arched into the touch, a whimper escaping me.
"So responsive," he praised, his voice low and approving. Then his mouth was there, hot and wet, sucking the peaked flesh.
I cried out, my hands fisting in his hair. The sensation overwhelmed me. Wet warmth sending shocks of desperate pleasure straight between my legs, building a need so fast it scared me. No one had ever touched me like this, and the raw vulnerability of it hit me hard, tears pricking my eyes even as desire surged.
He moved to the other side. To the scar I'd hidden for so long. His touch there was gentle, reverent, like he was handling something precious. And when his lips traveled over the numb skin, a sob escaped me in equal parts pleasure and gut-wrenching relief. For years, I'd hated that part of me, convinced it made me unworthy. But here, under his mouth, I felt... seen. Accepted.
Beautiful.
"Perfect," he growled against my skin. "Every fucking inch of you."
His words sank into me, battling the old doubts, but I couldn't fight the emotion rising in my throat. His hand slid lower, fingers hooking in the waistband of my underwear. Before I could panic, he stripped them away, then removed his own, and suddenly there was nothing between us as he covered me again.
Gods, I could feel all of him. His hard length pressed against my thigh, the strength of his body, the steady pounding of his heart against mine. It was overwhelming, terrifying, my mind screaming that this was too much, too soon, even as my body craved more.
Elias stilled above me, the muscles in his arms bulging on either side of my head as he held most of his weight off me. He dropped soft kisses on my eyelids, my nose, my cheeks, like he was grounding me, reminding me he wasn't here to break me.
Then his mouth moved to my throat, and I felt the vibration of his lips against my artery as a low, needy growl rumbled through him. The sound sent a thrill of fear and arousal through me.
Feeling achingly vulnerable, I lifted my chin, giving him more room.
With a soft curse, he ran the wet tip of his tongue along my pulse before moving back down my body, his movements deliberate, like he was mapping every inch of me to memory.
My heart was beating out of my chest, my breaths coming fast and hard, then stopping altogether as he sat back on his heels between my legs and stared down at me. The intensity in his eyes made me feel stripped bare, not just physically but emotionally, like he could see all the way to the deepest parts of me.
"So perfect," he said again, his voice filled with awe as the heat of his gaze burned every inch of me he could see, lingering between my thighs. His eyes met mine for a brief second before his hands were on my inner thighs, pushing my legs open wider, asserting that control that both terrified and excited me.
My hands fisted in the comforter. "Elias." I didn't know if I was begging him to stop or to keep going. My emotions were a tangled mess of want and fear.
"I want to see all of you." One of his hands moved up my thigh, and his thumb slid through the folds of my sex from back to front, slow and commanding.
My back arched off the bed when he hit that little bundle of nerves no one but me had ever touched, pleasure spiking through me like electricity.
"So fucking beautiful," he breathed, his tone laced with possession.
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but feel as Elias's thumb brushed over my clit again, sending another shockwave through me. It was so much and yet not enough all at the same time.
