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“Please what?”
“In me,” she said. “I need you inside me.”
He grabbed hold of her hips and lifted them up off of the mattress, and he thrust home. Her cry of pleasure echoed in the room, and he began to move, losing himself in the rhythm of them.
The rhythm that only they had ever found together.
And he forgot. He forgot the game. He forgot what he was trying to do for her, because he could only feel. He could only feel this need. This desire. This everything. It overtook him, consumed him.
It was no longer about her first time.
It felt like his.
He thrust into her, grinding against her pleasure center, and she cried out, her orgasm rippling through her, and setting off his own. He growled, losing his control, thrusting into her one last time and spilling himself into her.
“Riot,” he whispered.
And she held his head to her chest, stroking him as if he were a beast in need of taming.
But perhaps he was.
Perhaps he was.
“I love you,” she whispered. “Krav, I love you.”
He had done it. He had restored the things that had been lost between them. And she would be his.
His mouth curved into a grin as he pulled her into his arms and she rested her head on his chest.
He had won the war.
The war against himself, and all the darkness in his soul.
Riot was his. And there was no question about that.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHENSHEWOKEup it was raining.
Krav was still holding her in his arms, and she could hear his heart beating steadily against her ear. She could also hear the rain falling on the roof. Splattering against the windows.
It created the strangest echo inside of her.
For some reason, she felt compelled by it. There was a balcony off of the master bedroom, and she slipped out from the warmth of the covers, the warmth of his hold, and stood there for a moment. Looking at him.
None of his intensity eased in sleep. It was all still there. Except it seemed... Unvarnished.
There was nothing to soften it while he dreamed. His strength, the inherent danger of the man radiated off of him and sent a chill down her spine. And why should it?
He had been nothing but a romantic lover to her. Nothing but a man of extreme solicitousness. There was no reason to feel this chill.
She loved him.
She could see so clearly now how she had fallen for him.
The things that he had done to her body were magic. And no wonder she had given herself to him with such ease.
But it was more than that. He had given her the world. Quite literally. And for a girl from small-town Georgia, it was everything. It was like nothing she had ever even known to dream of. Private jets and Paris. Proposals beneath fireworks in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower.
