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At that moment, I have the horrifying realization of how much I like that, of how much I want more of it. When I glance down at his muscular forearm imprisoning me, the last thing I want to do is run away.
He drags his nose along the curve of my neck as he gropes my breast, and as I melt against him, I can feel the hard length of his shaft pressing into my spine.
He’s huge.
I’d already suspected it, but my fear reignites as I imagine him trying to ram that inside of me.
I try to pull away, and he releases a low growl before he snatches both my arms and tugs them back, securing my wrists with one of his hands.
“Always so fucking defiant,” he murmurs against me. “You’re going to learn what that gets you in this house.”
The sound of his tie being undone steals the breath from my lungs, and when I feel the material wrapping around my wrists, my bravery flees in a moment of sheer panic.
“Wait!” I choke out, yanking away from his grasp before he can secure a knot.
His eyes are molten hot and downright predatory as they move over my face, and I know I have to get through to him somehow. I have to find a way to humanize him again because right now, whoever’s in the room with me isn’t the same man who kissed me at the altar.
“Azrael.” His name leaves my lips on a whisper as I take a tentative step toward him. “I’m giving myself to you freely. All I’m asking is that you don’t… hurt me.” Despite my best efforts, my voice falters on the last two words. Even though I didn’t intend for him to see this part of me—the wounded part—I can see that he does.
His features darken as he regards me curiously. “You are a virgin.”
I think it’s meant to be a question, but it sounds more like a command—like he can’t fathom the idea that I would ever give myself to anyone else, and if I had, there would be hell to pay.
“I am.” I force the words between my teeth.
He doesn’t look satisfied with my response, and I know it’s because he’s still questioning it. My reaction was too strong to be without a reason, and he wants to understand why. He wants to strip bare this wound, and I can’t let him. I can’t tell him that while I may be a virgin, I am not without damage.
Instead, I reach up on my toes to touch his face, the part of his temple that’s still throbbing, pain lingering beneath the surface. I want him to know that I see his discomfort too. That I feel it. In some ways, despite our differences, we do have something in common.
We both understand pain.
He closes his eyes, shutting himself off from me, but it doesn’t escape my notice that after a moment, he leans into the touch. It catches me off guard, and I’m not the only one. His eyes snap open in confusion before narrowing on my face.
“What are you trying to do to me?” His fingers clamp around my jaw as he pierces me with his gaze.
“Nothing.” The word leaves my lips so quietly that I’m not sure he even hears it.
He’s looking at me in that way again, like he thinks I’m doing some kind of witchcraft on him right now.
We stare at each other like that for what feels like the longest minute of my life before he surprises me again, this time by leaning down and claiming my lips with his once more. The heat of his mouth brands mine as his hand wraps around the length of my hair, holding me there as if to repeat what he’s been telling me all day.
I’m his.
He’s said it in every way imaginable: with his ring on my finger, his brand on my skin, and even the words he uttered to Hildebrand. But this is different than before. This claim sends my pulse skyrocketing, heats my blood, and makes my body sway as I nearly collapse into him.
I feel lightheaded from the rush of endorphins, and I wonder if this is normal. Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Am I drunk off a single kiss?
Against my better judgment, my mouth parts for him again, and this time, his tongue sweeps past my lips, tasting me. He swallows my exhalation, tilting my face back like he wants to devour me. Like he needs to drink from my lips as much as he needs air to breathe.
A groan rumbles from his chest, then he releases me abruptly, glaring down at me again as he drags a hand through his hair. “What the fuck are you doing?”
I blink up at him, still breathless and half-stupefied from that kiss. “What do you mean?”
