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He lets out a low rumble from his chest, his eyes flashing with desire.
“Oh, Christ,” he swears.
Then he’s grabbing my face with both hands, kissing me with such ferocity, such passion, that I nearly fall backward, my knees buckling.
He keeps me upright, one arm going around my lower back, the other gripping my face as his lips move against mine, mouth open, licking my tongue with his.
Fuck. Me.
Fireworks explode down my spine, spurring on my hunger for him, a tangle of tongues that feels as close to fucking as possible, something deep and raw. His mouth ravages mine, a hot, hard messy whirl of lips, tongue, teeth. It’s unraveling me more and more by the second, the way he so expertly owns me already, our kiss deepening into parts of me I didn’t even know existed.
I gasp against his lips, my hands traveling up the hard, wide expanse of his back, trying to claw the shirt off him, feeling feral, an animal on the loose.
He pulls away and for a moment I think he’s going to change his mind or chastise me for trying to ruin another shirt. Fingers press into my cheekbones, his mouth open and wet, and when I stare into his eyes, I see a man on the verge of losing all control.
Please, please, come over the edge with me.
The corner of his mouth lifts for a second, showing that he heard my thoughts.
“I’m not going to be gentle,” he says hoarsely, breathing hard. The sharp, intoxicating tang of his adrenaline and desire fills my nose.
“I don’t want you to be gentle,” I say, digging my nails into his back. “I want to feel everything you have for me.”
“Fuck,” he says gruffly, grabbing my chin with hard fingers, searching my eyes with something like amazement. “You’re going to be my ruin, aren’t you?”
Then he’s kissing me again, moving me backward until the back of my thighs hit the bed and I sit down.
He steps back, taking off his shirt, unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down along with his boxer briefs and socks. He’s completely naked in front of me, his cock jutting straight up, hard as stone and impressive, enough that I’m almost salivating, my body hit with a sharp pang of need.
He truly is the most perfect-looking man.
Vampire.
Whatever he is, he’s mine for the moment.
I reach down to take off my sweater, but he gives a shake of his head.
“You’ve been doing that enough. Lie back on the bed,” he commands.
I do as I’m told, heart in my throat as he prowls over me, his fingers curling around the hem of my sweater as he slowly pulls it up over my skin, goosebumps forming as he plants kisses on each section he exposes.
My heart flutters, skips. Heat builds between my legs, waiting for him.
He brings the sweater up over my head and arms, his head between my breasts as he reaches behind my back to unhook my bra. A vein running across the fullness of my breasts catches his attention, nostrils flaring as he breathes me, running the tip of his nose over my sensitive skin.
I gasp, my breasts swelling under his touch, his lips gently brushing over me as he pulls the bra away. My nipples are already in hardened peaks and he eyes them with a throaty growl before he starts licking up the side of my breast, his tongue flat and wide, his gaze locked with mine as he moves. Then he covers my nipple with his mouth, sucking me in.
Biting me.
Just for a second.
Just a pinch.
I gasp, my body stiffening from the pain as it quickly dissipates, his lips and tongue now soothing the spot, swirling around my nipple until I’m squirming underneath him.
“Sorry,” he murmurs against my skin.
I lift my head to glance down at him, and he doesn’t seem very sorry at all. A wicked look gleams in his eyes, a hint of my blood on his lips, my chest rising and falling against him.
