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He brought her in closer. His mouth was feverish and hot as he pushed his tongue between her teeth. Her tongue stroked his, the sensation sending blood into his already hardening cock. Their tongues slid against each other in an erotic dance. He growled into her mouth, satisfied by her desire for him. He wanted to get lost in her kiss, to drown in it.
The walls that had existed between them crumbled like sand swept by the tide. His chest was full, threatening to spill over with joy and relief. As long as he had her, he would want for nothing. She was his future, and he would do whatever it took to be hers.
Mila was his.
Hisother half.
And he was never letting her go.
FIFTEEN
MILA
Mila tried to hold onto her anger, to remember the intensity that came with Cyrus’s rejection. The petulant part of her wanted to drag out his apology the moment he came to the door. She wanted to deny him as he had denied her. She wanted him to beg.
Instead, her heart softened at the sight of him.
Not much, but enough to sheath her tongue and give him an opportunity to speak.
It was a mistake.
She knew her resolve may as well have been made of Jell-O around him. His hazel eyes were a lure, calling to her like a piper, daring her to follow. Mila could never resist an adventure. She should have turned him away at the door. She didn’t, some aching part of her was willing to give herself to Cyrus, needing him to crave her, and she fell into the tear that divided her heart and her mind.
It was hard to stay mad at Cyrus. The fear and honesty in his eyes bound her resistance. His emotions mirrored her own regret, uncertainty, anger, and determination.
He reached for her, and she reached back. Every part of him drew her in, and when his lips crashed onto hers, she forgot why she was there. The world slipped away.
At first, his kiss was slow, cautious, and teasing. His impossibly soft mouth shifted its languid torture between toe-clenching depth and maddening whispers of heat. He kissed her like time didn’t exist, leaving flaming trails across her jaw before taking her bottom lip into his mouth and biting down. Her core clenched, igniting sparks that trailed through her limbs and set her body alight. Mila whimpered, her lips parted, and he plunged his tongue between them.
She was vaguely aware of his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her to him. The damp, smooth surface of his tongue slid against hers, and he groaned. The sound deepened, his bear rising to the surface. Her pussy pulsed in response, a delicious ripple of methodical throbs, the most primal part of her responding to the animal in him. She was melting, opening, giving in to the pleasure he would bring.
“Mmm, I could come from your mouth alone,” he growled.
His kiss hardened, demanding that she submit to his claim. She kissed him back, matching his force, wrapping her arms around his neck and savoring the taste of him. He gripped the back of her thighs, spreading her legs and lifting her onto his lap so she straddled him. His movements were firm and commanding. All the gentleness burned away as something darker drove him.
He fisted the hair at the nape of her neck and yanked her head back. With her chin tipped up, he hungrily licked her exposed flesh. Cyrus’s teeth skimmed her collarbone. She moaned, the sensation of his beard scratching against her flesh making her core swell and moisten with desire. His erection pressed against her thigh, thickening with their increasing contact. She shivered, imagining him burying himself inside her aching walls, stretching her until all that was left was the sound of their skin fighting to be a part of one another.
Cyrus was her lifeline.
He was created for her to lose herself in. And it would be so easy to do it. He ripped open her shirt, leaning her back and kissing the tops of her breasts. God, she wanted this, wanted him. But it would be on her terms, with her rules. She fought for control of her wanton mind.
She wanted to rub herself against him. She almost did. But there was something she wanted more. Her pride kept her still and clear. Her depravity rose on the tides of her lust. There was more to sex than pleasure.
Today, he would worship her.
He would give her everything.
Mila placed a hand on his chest, breaking their kiss. She slid off his lap and took several steps back, needing him to see her. Cyrus eyed her like a predator. His jaw clenched, the long muscles of his large frame tensed, ready for a chase.
His voice was gravel. “Are you trying to run from me?”
She ignored him, her tone cool despite the electricity coursing through her. “Get on your knees.”
He raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening a fraction, but he made the attempt to move. “You want me to beg?”
She gave him a cocky grin. “Not exactly,” she said, putting a timer on her phone … five minutes exactly … and placing it on the bed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember accepting your apology.” She paused, letting his mind do what it will, and waited. His hands began to twitch, his resolve weakening. “But we’re about to change that.”
Mila ran her fingers down the opening of her ripped shirt, letting her fingers linger around her breast. She caressed the divide between her bra and her skin. Cyrus’s eyes dropped to her chest, following her movements with unbending focus.
