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He was watching her, and she needed to be cool.
Inhaling deeply, she turned to him, only to find him leaning against the door casually, like he owned the place. Those focused blue eyes observed everything that crossed her face while his own remained carefully blank. Morana felt her heart start to stutter in that familiar way it did with him, the fire flooding her bloodstream, igniting every cell it touched.
This was not the place for this. If there was ever not a place for this, it was her father’s house.
“All done?” he asked quietly, his voice even but tone heated with something her body recognized and called back to.
She nodded.
He let her take the bag and moved out of the suite as she followed, her warm body not giving her the luxury of emotions at that moment. They went down the stairs, the house dark and quiet, and she didn’t know whether her father was in or not. Nor did she care.
Opening the side door, he escaped out first, pulling her behind him as they stayed in the shadows, walking towards the tree line.
Suddenly, a group of guards came around the corner, talking among themselves, their guns relaxed on their shoulders.
Morana halted in her tracks, her mind blanking as fear filled her veins, and she turned around to run for cover the exact moment a hand pulled her roughly and pushed her face-first against an alcove in the wall at the side of the house. Heart hammering in her ears, blood rushing around in her body with a vengeance, Morana stayed completely still, overwhelming sensations crashing over her as the scent of leather and musk permeating all around her as she took in a few deep breaths, becoming aware of many things all at once.
His arms trapped her against the wall, hands flat beside her head as his body completely covered hers from view, his large form curled over her in a way that was not protective but something else entirely, something she could not define. His breaths brushed over her ear, his scruff rasping against the skin of her neck as he tucked his head in to make them merge even deeper into the shadows.
But it was his body against her back, his tall, hard, lethal body against her small back that made her knees shake.
Her breath caught in her throat.
He did not move.
His erection pushed into her back.
He did not move.
The guards’ voices faded away.
He did not move.
The fire pooled in her belly, low between her legs, making her instinctively arch against him.
Then, he moved.
He pushed the bag off her shoulder to the ground, the strap of her top falling down to her elbow with it. His hand traced her bare skin with a rough finger. Breaths hitched, Morana closed her eyes, feeling the calluses on his hand rub deliciously against her soft skin, the goosebumps scattering all over her arms, making her nipples pebble, making her breasts hurt as heat licked between her legs.
He hadn’t touched her like this the last time. He hadn’t breathed against her neck like this and rubbed his jaw over the spot against her shoulder, all the while keeping his mouth away from her. His hand slowly moved around her neck, leaving her breasts untouched, unattended like last time. She wanted – no, needed – him to touch them. She needed him to tug on her nipples, and give her that sweet pleasure she knew her body was capable of. She needed to rub them against his thumb, and create that delicious friction she could feel pulse inside her core.
She needed his hands on her breasts.
But his hand closed around her neck, in that hold she’d come to recognize, firm but not tight, as his lips moved right next to her ear.
“Did you feel me inside you the next day?” he whispered against the soft skin of her shell, the whiskey in his voice going straight to her head, his words going straight to her core. Her walls clenched in the memory of that hard, fast fuck on the restroom counter.
Morana bit her lip, not giving him her response verbally, even as her hips pushed back against his. She felt his cock slip against her ass as she stood on her toes, the erotic friction making her behave like a cat in heat rather than the smart, rational woman she’d been until moments ago.
Her anger at herself though, her regret for letting this happen again was much less than what it’d been a few days ago. She didn’t know what that spoke about her, or even what it meant, but for now, she embraced it, her head falling back against his shoulder as she ground herself on him, with her front pressed to the wall.
His hand tightened around her throat, his hips thrusting against her as his other hand slipped inside her jeans, her panties, homing in straight on her sweet spot. Her mouth fell open on a pant as he buried his digits knuckle deep inside her.
“So fucking wet for me,” he growled in her ear, his hips pushing forcefully against her ass. His fingers worked on her front, the hard brick wall rubbing against her breasts, scraping against her nipples, making her walls quiver every time his fingers slipped in and out. His thumb rubbed over her clit.
“Fuck if I’m not hard for you,” he spat, his hatred, his desire, his possession seeping from his voice into her body. Her heartbeats pulsed everywhere she felt him. His scent, his warmth, his touch surrounding her, imprisoning her, invading
her in a way that made her blood so hot she felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
