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But I can’t speak with his fist squeezing the air from me. I was stupid to sneak in here. Because taking a sleeping Max Butcher by surprise might not have been the best idea. I didn't even think about it. Didn't consider his defensive stance on an unknown person in his bed.
He measures me up. His eyes are thin black cuts set into his hard expression. As the big arm pinning me down shakes with restraint, Max slowly comes to. Blinking at me, realisation gathering in his mind, he loosens his hold on my neck but doesn't move his hand away. When his lips press against mine, I catch some breath from within his mouth.
Oh my God.
"Am I dreaming?" He hums - raspy and deep - into our kiss.
"No, Max. I'm here," I whisper, feeling a tidal wave of love. As a tear slides down my cheek, I just feel too much. In deep. And while the heat from his body is so intense it's like I'm being smothered by the sun, his mouth as it moves on mine is gentle with adoration.
Closing my eyes, I hum and focus on his soft lips as they massage mine. I think about Max Butcher. Only him.
Cupping his rough jaw, I deepen our kiss.
As his fingers twitch around my throat, he exhales a rough, lust filled growl. "Don't fuck with me."
"I'm not." I breathe against his lips. "Take him away, Max. Please. Take it all away with your touch. Your smell." Thrumming on my leg now is his steel-like erection, and I start to pant into his kiss, wanting it, needing it. Without hesitation. "Max, I want you."
Flipping us over so that I'm on top of him, he pulls me to straddle his hips. He releases my throat, and I inhale sharply, not realising that he had still been squeezing ever so slightly.
God, he smells good. We don't break our kiss.
As if he doesn't believe my conviction, he states, "Stay on top of me, Cassidy. I don't trust myself with you tonight. Not while you're saying shit like that."
My fingers slide up his strong chest and into his messy hair while one of his hands cradles the back of my head and the other strokes down my spine to cup my backside.
I slowly slide my tongue the length of his lips, invoking a groan of pent-up yearning from within his chest. "I trust you with me. I'm sorry I forgot for a while-"
He cuts me off. "I'm not doing this, Cassidy. Not again."
"Please," I whimper. "Take me. I'm yours. If I'm yours, then no one else can touch me. Make me yours again."
He growls at that. "You have always been mine!"
"Show me," I say, my voice barely a whisper, a flutter against his mouth, but no doubt a siren in his soul. I am desperate for him. Desperate to have him consume me until all the mess in my mind is swallowed up by his being. Incinerated in the fire he lights in my heart with his loving embrace and possessive touch.
He rolls me under him, a smooth movement that leaves me pressed between his hard body and the mattress. His mouth works on mine. Lips gentle. Loving. When his tongue trails down my chin to my throat, tracing the beat of my rapid pulse, I tilt my head back. Combing my fingers through his hair, I press his lips to my skin harder and breathe heavily.
So heavy.
All of it. The moment. The anticipation.
His movements are leisurely, his tongue savouring. As he licks down my chest to one of my breasts, he cups the other in the gentle, warm vice of his palm. He removes my bra and laps his tongue over my nipple, long and slow, and so gentle it's almost painful.
I want more.
My fists tighten in his dark-brown hair. My nipple is flicked over and over, bringing shockwaves of sensation to the delta between my thighs. I moan. The muscles between the lips of my sex squeeze at the emptiness in a silent plea.
But he's taking his time.
The casual exploration of his mouth on my breast is so excruciating in its tenderness, I want to cry. He slides down my body, his tongue tracing the ripples of my abdominal muscles. He dips lower. The anticipation of his mouth between my legs is so unbearable, I moan long and low and thrust my hips up. He growls with restraint. His biceps pulse.
But he denies my wordless plea, sliding his tongue down my thigh.
I melt into the soft sheets, my body jelly for him to consume and mould.
His tongue and breath are hot on my skin as he strokes down the full length of my leg. I buck when he gets to my foot. I squirm at the sensation of his tongue sliding down to my toes. "Mine," he murmurs, "Every inch of you, little one."
He moves on to my other leg, painting a hot, wet trail with his mouth and tongue.
