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His rules had nothing to do with keeping others away.

Only him.

Away from me.

He tried to confine what this was.

I fought it just the same.

But there was no fighting it anymore.

I dropped my hand from his shoulder to his knee behind me. Arched my back. Giving him all the access he needed. His touch caressed the crease of my thigh, then moved lower, sliding along the edge of me.

I closed my eyes as a shudder rose.

Something inside me clenched. I slowly thrust against his touch, driving his fingers into my crease.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Nyssa.”

But I didn’t stop. Instead I drove harder, moaning as his fingers worked over the sensitive part of me. Then with a low snarl he moved, his body like a shifting mountain underneath me. His arm wrapped around my waist, pinning me against him as he rose from the sofa.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and kissed him. Hard lips softened, taking more as he lay me gently down on his bed. He paused above me. Firelight flickered across the scar on his face.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

Mine.

I reached up, caressing the pale line. His eyes widened. Just for a second. Time stopped. Two damaged souls. Two broken things. Somehow finding the places where they fit.

“Tell me to stop.” He said. “Tell me you don’t want this, Nyssa and I’ll end this right now.”

I stared into those perfect eyes.

Instead of words I rose up on my elbows and kissed him.

“Show me what love looks like.”

His breath caught. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat.

When he opened them again there was no doubt. Just certainty.

He lowered his body. His lips finding mine. Pushing me back down.

He dragged his hands over the span of my waist, then up. Thumbs skimmed the swell of my breasts before he captured my wrists and drew them above my head. I closed my eyes as the kiss deepened. Hard lips moved, taking. His tongue caressed mine, then gently dragged it into his mouth. My body couldn’t help but respond.

Pulsing.

Throbbing.

I arched my back. Shifting my hips. I needed him. No. I wanted him. There was a difference.

His hands didn’t roam. They claimed. Fingers spread wide as one travelled down my arm and over my chest. But he didn’t pinch my nipple or maul my breast. He moved over my heart as though he could somehow reach that part of me. Like he was desperate to get to that part of me.

He broke the kiss and slowly lifted his head. No words were needed as I tilted my chin, offering my throat. He kissed my pulse, those hard lips travelling all the way down to my collarbone.

“Christ, you’re going to undo me.” He breathed against my neck. “And I fucking want you to.”