Page 103 of Dance of Stars and Ashes

He nodded. “Me too.”

His hand returned to her hip before he squeezed it.

“Zarya, your level of experience is inconsequential to me. In fact, I rather enjoy the idea of being your first.”

“You aren’t my first,” she said. “Let’s make that clear. Don’t get any notions of staking your claim or some other alpha bullshit.”

He grinned as his fingers dug in.

“No, but I will be your best.”

“Do you ever give it a rest?” she asked, and he grinned.

“When I’m done, that asshole who had the audacity to skip eating you out when he had the chance will be a forgotten memory.”

Zarya huffed out a laugh, trying to hang on to some semblance of the upper hand.

“There you go, thinking so much of yourself,” she said, but the words were too breathless to have their intended impact, and he knew it. It was obvious he was finally inching over the battle line of their clashing wills.

His thumb swept out, caressing the plane of her stomach, sending her into freefall.

“Let me show you everything,” he said with a nearly bestial growl, making liquid heat pool in her stomach. “I want to pleasure you, Zarya. I want to spread you out and fuck you until you see stars.”

“What about the biting?” she asked, remembering the conversation with Yasen and Vikram outside Jai Mahal all those months ago.

Rabin’s eyebrows rose, and the corner of his mouth ticked up.

“That’s part of it—if you want.” Zarya nibbled on her bottom lip as she caught a flash of his sharp white canines. “I’ll show you that, too. I’ll show you whatever you want.”

His fingers continued to trace idle circles along her ribs as he pressed into her harder. She felt the unmistakable evidence of how this conversation was affecting him.

“Have you thought about me? When you’re alone?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes,” she said, and he grinned against her cheek.

“Did you touch this pretty pink pussy?” he asked, his hand sliding down to cup between her legs. She gasped as she clung to him for support.

“I did,” she whispered.

“Did you put your fingers inside yourself as you thought about me?”

“The night we danced in the forest,” she said as his hand tightened against the back of her neck. “And the night you abandoned me. And maybe some other times, too.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“I want to watch you,” he said. “Will you touch yourself for me while I watch, Spitfire?”

Her gaze met his, and the hunger and earnestness in it dissolved any lingering feelings of shame or embarrassment. She was gone. Every argument she could fathom had dissolved into a pile of dust at her feet.

“If you want,” she said, and light sparked in his eyes.

“Let me kiss you,” he breathed, his mouth so close that she tasted the brush of his breath. It was warm and smoky, like the liquor he’d been drinking, and the burning edge of desire curling between them.

“Yes,” she replied. He tipped her head back, the gleam in his eyes so damn satisfied. She moaned as he kissed her; his hands and his mouth burned like sunbaked sand. He kissed her with abandon, his lips firm and demanding. He wasn’t just kissing her—he was consuming her. Drowning her in a river of heat and lust that had been cresting for months.

It was every lingering look and gentle touch. The way he’d held her hand as she’d fallen asleep. The way he’d come to her rescue, releasing her from her bound magic. The way he’d saved her, plucking her out of the sky like a falling star. The connection they shared, even if she wasn’t ready to name it yet.

Her arms looped around his neck as his hands slid up her ribs, his thumbs sweeping out to caress the arcs of her breasts. He moaned into her mouth, and the sound sent a lightning bolt of desire straight to her throbbing clit.