“Show me,” he said.
My breath hitched.
His eyes held mine. “I want to know what you like. How you touch yourself. What makes you gasp when no one else is in the room.”
My whole body flushed hot.
I scooted back, heart hammering, and lay against the pillows. He stayed between my legs, enormous and naked and painfully hard, his hands planted on his thighs like he was anchoring himself there.
I pushed my pants down and kicked them away.
His nostrils flared.
That shouldn’t have been hot.
I slid my hand between my thighs. I was already slick, embarrassingly so, and the first touch made my hips jerk.
Kazan made a sound like I’d hit him.
Good.
I did it again.
His eyes followed every movement. No shame in them. No impatience. He watched like my hand on my own body was the most important thing that had ever happened in that room.
I touched myself the way I did when I was alone and trying not to make noise. Except I didn’t try so hard now. My fingers circled my clit, slow at first, then firmer when my body told me what it wanted.
I brought my other hand to my breast and rolled my nipple between my fingers. My back arched. Kazan’s hands flexed on his thighs, fingers pressing into the linen.
“You can touch me,” I said.
His gaze flicked to my face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m very sure. Please stop being noble before I die.”
That did it.
He came over me, careful with his weight, and lowered his mouth to my breast. His tongue flicked over my nipple, and I cried out, fingers still working between my thighs. He groanedagainst me and sucked harder, one of his hands sliding down to spread my legs wider.
The pressure built fast. Too fast.
I wanted more. I wanted everything.
He lifted his head, eyes dark. Then he did something that made every thought in my head go blank.
He dragged one horn across my collarbone.
The smooth curve was cool against my overheated skin, and I shivered so hard my hand slipped.
“Oh.” I stared at him. “Do that again.”
He did. Slowly. Down the center of my chest. Across the swell of one breast. Over my nipple.
I gasped.
He smiled then. Not sweet. Not exactly. It was too sharp for sweet. “You like that.”
“Apparently.” My voice was not dignified. I didn’t care.
