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The swirling warmth in my chest feels more like liquid fire than gentle light now. I can feel it pushing me, encouraging me, urging me.

Closer, closer, godsdamned closer.

It’s a maelstrom. Chaos of the best kind. I never want it to end.

My left hand finds her cheek again, and my fingers spear through her long white strands.

Her hair is just as soft as I imagined—pure silk that flows gently across my skin.

I want her body on top of mine, her back arched, head thrown back in pleasure, feeling these long strands tickle my thighs as she takes what she wants from me.

Fates, I’ll let her have whatever she wants. Anything. Everything.

The calluses on my palms catch on her delicate skin, but I don’t care. I suddenly want to leave a mark on her. I want to leave a thousand marks all over her body.

I need every inch of her to always remember the feeling of my skin on hers. Most of all, I want to claim her, and the thought of piercing her flesh with my fangs and tying her to me forever sends another rush of heat through my body.

I nip at her lower lip, and she arches closer.

My cock kicks against my zipper, and I instinctively grind down, growling when I hear her shocked gasp.

That gasp morphs into a needy whine as my hard length rubs against the soft heat between her thighs.

Is there anything I wouldn’t willingly give for the chance to sink my cock deep into her tight heat and brand her as mine?

No.

If there is, I can’t remember.

I kiss down her jaw, my lips finding the pulse in her neck with ease. I lick the skin there, memorizing the feel of her heartbeat pounding frantically against my tongue.

Too fast. Her heart is racing too fast.

Mine is, too.

I pull her closer, desperate to feel the slight weight of her against my chest. I want more.

I want to bury myself inside of her and never leave.

Cautiously, her hands move over my body, sliding from my chest and racing up my ribs and across my back. I can’t help the soft smile that tugs at my lips.

She’s exploring me.

Which is fine, because I want her hands everywhere. My hips roll forward—I can’t fucking help it—and her needy, perfect whimper makes my cock throb.

I can feel precum dripping from the head, saturating the fabric of my boxer-briefs.

The primal part of me hates the idea of my cum being wasted. I have the most overwhelming urge to paint her lips with it and rub it over her scent glands.

I want it all over her. I want it inside of her.

I’ve never had an urge to mark a female like that before. Part of me is baffled, pointing out that I should be questioning the desire, but a larger part purrs at the idea, confident that the urge to mark her is exactly right.

She’s mine. She should be covered in my scent.

Her hands wander up my back. Her fingers find my shoulder blades, and she adjusts her grip, scraping short nails over the closely cropped hair at my scalp.

I groan against her lips as shivers dance down my spine.