My breath caught. I nodded again.
He drew them down slowly, watching me the whole time. Not rushing. Not taking. Letting me choose every second.
James had never made me feel like this. He’d made me feel small. Wrong. Like anything I wanted was something shameful.
Kazan looked at me like wanting was a gift.
Then he sank to his knees.
“Kazan,” I breathed.
He settled my legs over his shoulders, and my pulse went wild. He was so big that even this felt impossible; my thighs stretched wide, my hands searching for something to hold.
I found his horns.
They were smooth and warm beneath my fingers.
Then his mouth touched me, and every thought vanished.
I gasped and tightened my grip. He made a low sound against me, and the vibration shot through my whole body. My head tipped back, and I forgot to be embarrassed. Forgot to be afraid. Forgot every ugly thing James had ever made me believe about myself.
There was only Kazan.
His hands held me steady while he learned what made me shake, what made me gasp, what made my fingers clutch harder around his horns. He was patient and relentless, and it was too much and not enough all at once.
The pleasure built higher than I knew it could.
“Kazan,” I said, or maybe begged.
Then it broke.
I came apart with his name on my lips, my body shaking as he held me through it. It went on and on until I was trembling and breathless and pushing weakly at him because I couldn’t take any more.
He stopped immediately.
I sat there on the counter, trying to remember how to breathe.
“Good?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I managed. My voice sounded strange. “That was… good.”
He laughed softly and pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh before standing.
For one sharp second, fear came back. This was the part where he changed his mind. Where he pulled away. Where he gave me warmth and then left me cold, because that was the pattern I knew.
But Kazan didn’t step back. He stayed between my knees. And when my gaze dropped, I saw exactly how much staying in control had cost him.
He was hard against the front of his pants, the heavy fabric strained tight. Heat rushed through me all over again.
He saw me looking and went still.
Waiting.
Always waiting for me to choose.
So I did.
I reached for the button of his pants. My hands weren’t steady, and the cuts stung, but I didn’t stop. He braced both fists on the counter beside my hips and bowed his head as I worked the button open and dragged the zipper down.
