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Orien waits, giving nothing away. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” I raise the Inductis to my lips.
The liquid burns on the way down, with a bitterness that draws a gag from me. I swallow it all in one go, forcing it past the resistance of my throat.
The empty vial gives a soft clink as I set it back on the counter.
For a moment, nothing happens. The refrigerator hums. The clock flashes. The apartment creaks.
Then heat blooms in my stomach, spreading outward in slow, inexorable waves. My skin grows suddenly too tight, too sensitive, the brush of my shirt across my back almost painful.
My pheromones slip out, thickening the air with a sweet scent. Blood rushes in my ears, and my mouth goes dry.
Orien’s eyes darken as the flush climbs my throat. “How do you feel?”
“Hot,” I manage, the word scraping from my throat. “I’m burning up.”
“It’ll get worse before it gets better.”
The understatement draws a laugh from me, almost hysterical. “How much worse?”
A ghost of a smile touches his mouth. “A lot.”
The heat builds, radiating outward from my core, and my knees weaken. I grab the counter to steady myself, knocking over my drink in the process.
Orien stalks closer, stopping short of touching me. “Still your choice. Even now.”
I look up at him, my vision already starting to blur at the edges. “Is it?”
“Yes.” He cups my jaw, thumb brushing my lower lip. “Always.”
The touch sends a jolt of pleasure down my spine, and I arch into it without thinking. “Take me to bed. Please.”
His nostrils flare. “You’re sure?”
In answer, I reach for him, my fingers finding the front of his shirt and twisting in the fabric. “Yes. God, yes.”
His arm slides around my waist, supporting me as my knees buckle. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
And when the bedroom door closes behind us, I understand what I’m giving him.
Everything.
23
As Orien leads me toward the bed, I breathe in his pheromones in a desperate bid to ease the fire roaring through my veins.
It doesn’t work.
A sound, half sob, half a moan, tears out of me, and I want to be embarrassed, but the fever surging through my body swamps it, and all I can do is ride the sensation.
I shove a hand past the waistband of his sweats, desperate for his cock, but he catches my wrist with one hand.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, velvet over gravel. “You need to be lying down.”
I sway against him, dizzy. “Don’t care.”
“Yeah, you do.” He tucks an arm under my knees and lifts me without effort. My head spins, and I wrap my arms around his neck, rubbing my hard nipples over his pecs, legs restless as I seek friction for the hard ridge of my aching dick.
