Page 53

“Are you kidding me? Where’s⁠—”

“What do you really want, Astra? Your little bag of magic stones?” He holds up the pouch. “This one, maybe?”

I drop the clothes and rush him. He laughs when I shove him, because he doesn’t move an inch. Infuriating shifter. I reach for the pouch, but he holds it above my head. And I refuse to jump for it. That would be too humiliating, even for me.

He moves into me. I drift away, still reaching for the pouch. It’s taunting me. He’s taunting me.

“It’s not yours,” I snap.

My back hits the door.

My eyes go wide, but I’m… caught.

He tosses the pouch behind him and presses his palms to the door on either side of my head. He leans down, and my heart skips. His lips touch my ear, then drift lower. His lips on my Mark is an odd feeling. It tingles, but the sensation rushes between my legs.

When his teeth dig into my neck, I shudder. My eyes roll back, and I grip his waist without thinking. My pinkie finger brushes the waistband of his sweatpants, but my palms are flat on his skin. He’s burning hot, and a shiver runs up his spine at the new contact. I dig my nails in, but I can’t tell if I’m trying to push him away or pull him closer.

I’m playing with fire—and so is he.

He bites and sucks at my skin. His tongue soothes the spot. It’s a heady feeling, but I keep my mouth shut. My head automatically tips to the side, giving him more room.

Not. Good.

I can’t stop it.

He grinds his erection into my hip.

I’m grasping firmer at his waist, definitely pulling him closer. Against all of my better judgment.

His hands slide down my sides, over my hips.

Without warning, he grips the backs of my thighs and lifts me. I squeak and throw my arms around his shoulders. He spreads my legs and steps between them, and I groan at the new contact. His dick, separated by my shorts and his sweatpants, touches my core.

It’s unnatural and perfect all at the same time.

“Take what you need,” he says in my ear.

“I don’t need anything.”

“Your arousal has the sweetest smell, witch. You can’t hide that from me.”

He nips my throat again.

“That’s really fucking irritating,” I gripe.

He keeps doing things to my neck. I let my head fall back as I roll my hips forward. He cups my ass and urges me to do it again. I grind shamelessly on him, my mouth open and breaths coming fast. He doesn’t raise his head from my skin, but his lips travel across my collarbone. Each kiss sears into me, like he’s giving me a brand.

I don’t hate it.

I want to hate it.

It doesn’t take long for tingling pleasure to shoot through me. I shudder in his grip and dig my nails into his skin. I hope I leave marks.

“That’s it,” he groans. He presses into me until my tremors stop.

Reality creeps back in slowly. First my heartbeat, then the chill in the air. My heaving chest. The heat coming off his skin. His hands holding me by my thighs.

What the fuck did I just do?