“Because I am trying very hard not to lose control.”
Heat floods me.
“Good to know.”
I lower myself to my knees.
Every trace of amusement disappears from his face.
My nerves arrive all at once.
I wrap my fingers around him and feel the sharp breath he takes.
That helps.
I stroke once.
Then again.
“Tell me if I do something wrong.”
His hand settles against the side of my face.
“Sweetheart.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You cannot do this wrong.”
“I am fairly sure that is statistically impossible.”
A rough laugh leaves him.
I lean forward before I lose my courage and take the head into my mouth.
Zain goes still.
His hand slides into my hair, holding without pushing.
I move slowly, learning him by reaction: the way his breath changes when I take more of him, the way his fingers tighten when I use my tongue, the low sound in his chest when I stroke what I cannot fit into my mouth.
I like that sound.
A lot.
I look up.
His eyes are already on me.
The heat in them makes my stomach clench.
I pull back just enough to breathe.
“Tell me what you want, Chief.”
His gaze turns dark.
“Kaia.”
