It does something much, much worse.
It makes me want to prove him right.
So I kiss him.
This time, I’m the one who starts it.
And Shadow doesn’t stay controlled for long.
His hand slides from my jaw into my hair, rough fingers threading through the tangled strands, holding me still while his mouth takes mine deeper. The other hand tightens at my waist, dragging me against him until there’s no space left between us.
Hard muscle.
Warm leather.
My soft body pressed to every dangerous inch of him.
My breath breaks.
His does too.
The sound of it goes straight through me, hot and reckless. I rise on my toes, chasing more, and he gives it to me with a low growl that feels less like a sound and more like a claim.
His hand drops to my hip.
Big.
Possessive.
Fingers digging into denim as he turns me away from the bed and walks me backward until my spine meets the wall beside it. The impact is soft, controlled, his palm already behind my head so I don’t hit too hard.
Even like this, even with his body pinning me in place and his mouth rough on mine, he’s careful.
That should not make me hotter.
It does.
His beard scrapes my cheek. My jaw. The sensitive place under my ear. I gasp, and his mouth moves lower, dragging heat down my throat until my head tips back all on its own.
“Jayce,” I breathe.
He goes still.
Completely still.
Then his forehead drops to my shoulder.
“Fuck.”
The word is quiet.
Ragged.
Final.
My hands are still gripping his cut. My body is still pressed to his. Every part of me is awake and shaking and furious that he stopped.
“Seriously?” I whisper.
