Max freezes like a wolf catching scent. His eyes settle on mine first, then drop. A wave of heat crawls along my skin as he practically devours every inch of my naked form.
His arousal’s blatant in the loose pants hanging low on his hips.
A rush of power surges through me. I know with absolute certainty that, regardless of whatever else is happening, this thing between us is real.
I lounge against the side of the doorframe, arching my back so my breasts are on display. My nipples pebble as he savors the sight of me.
I slide my hand down my stomach. “I need to not think for a while.”
He nods once, which seems to require all his control. “Fight or fuck?”
The question jolts straight through me. He gets me, and he’s offering exactly what I need. “Why not both?”
His eyes darken, his pupils expanding until there’s nothing but a thin ring of blue around black.
Adrenaline spikes in my system, all my senses on high alert.
Crossing the room in three long strides, Max doesn’t stop when he reaches me. His hands grab at my waist. Mine tangle in his shirt and pull.
Buttons go flying as Max hoists me into the air. His beard scrapes over my skin nanoseconds before he nips down my left breast, to my chest, then my belly. Cloth tears in my hands as Max shifts his grip. With a yank, I rip his shirt so it starts to flutter down.
With one hand on my waist and the other on my thigh, Max continues lifting me before tossing me across the room.
I’m falling, flying, and he’s shedding his ruined shirt even as he takes the next step.
My back and side hit the mattress, bouncing on impact. Before I can recover, before I even catch my breath, he’s leaping on top of me, his hands grasping for mine.
I twist, managing to keep one arm free. He snags the other and pins it in place above my head. His knees force my legs apart.
Instinct tells me to move, but it also tells me to appreciate this man. His eyes are wild, his hair falling forward, every line of his body coiled with tension.
I buck against him, shifting my hips and dragging myself over his rigid cock. My free hand digs into his arm, nails biting as I push. He doesn’t budge.
His scent wafts over me, clean soap and earthy wood.
I’m totally trapped. A thrill pings through me, all the way down to my toes.
His hand tightens on my wrist. I revel in his strength, in the hard length of him pressing against me through his pants.
“Fighting me, as always.” His throaty reply vibrates through my chest. He tries to grab my other wrist, but I snatch it away. “Why am I not surprised?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is there any other way?”
Hunger that perfectly matches the need burning through my veins glows in his eyes. His hand moves faster than I can follow, settling between my legs.
He thrusts two fingers inside me without any foreplay. None necessary. I’ve been wet since I opened my bedroom door.
His fingers stretching and filling me only has me squirming. I arch against him, running the nails of my free hand down his chest, leaving red welts in their wake. Then I reach up to grip his hair and yank, feeling a few strands pull free.
He releases a grunt. “You want it rough?”
“Only if you can handle it, old man.”
With a devilish grin that could melt my panties if I were wearing any, he pulls back just enough to shift my legs. His arm is knocked to the side as I twist, positioning for a leg lock on his throat and using my flexibility against his size.
For a moment, I have him. Only my shoulders touch the bed, my ass against his chest, one leg straight and strong with the other around his neck, ready to choke him out.
He grabs the leg behind his head, holds it in place, and adjusts, placing his face between my thighs.
