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Because he’s afraid to hurt anyone in the process of saving the entire underworld. I feel like I’m really looking at him for the first time. My heart is so full it wants to explode.
“I want you,” I whisper, and the words are so small and quiet that I don’t even know if he hears them. His eyes flicker, and the air goes still inside me, because what if he doesn’t know… I don’t know if I could bear it if he pulled away.
I’m left hanging, starving for him, until his mouth comes back to mine.
His hands are hot and heavy, and they slide down my sides, finding the edge of my shirt, pushing it up, exposing the soft skin underneath. His fingertips trail up the skin of my stomach and then my ribs, and he groans softly.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a reverence in his tone.
His thumbs brush the bottom curve of my breasts, and he pauses, as if waiting.
As if giving me one last chance to escape.
I don’t. I want this, and I want him, and there’s no going back from it.
And I can’t stop myself.
My head tips back, and his lips trail along my neck.
“Katy,” he murmurs. “Say yes. Tell me.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
It’s the only word I can think of, and it’s the only one he wants to hear from me.
He growls, and his hands slide up, tugging my bra down, cupping my breasts. The fabric of my bra wrinkles under them, pressing my chest up and into his hands.
“So perfect,” he breathes, and the way he holds them, as if I’m something precious, is enough to make my knees go weak. His grip is rough, but reverent, and the heat from his palms sinks into my skin, sending little shockwaves of pleasure down my spine.
His thumbs rub against my nipples, and I gasp, arching into him. He leans down, his mouth replacing one of his hands, his tongue tracing wet circles around one aching nipple, and then the other. He sucks lightly, and I have to close my eyes, because the sensation is overwhelming.
Nobody has ever touched me like this. Nobody has ever made me feel the way he does. I’ve had a few fumbling hook-ups, but they’re washed from my memory by his touch. This is all I’ve ever wanted. Maybe all I was made for.
“You like that,” he murmurs, and I’m lost. I can only nod, and I don’t trust my voice not to break or betray the emotion in my heart. Because this is not just physical, not just a hook-up, and there’s so much more than lust and attraction between us.
And I think he knows it. God, he has to know it, please. I’ll die tonight if he doesn’t, my heart cracking in splinters, if this is allI’ll ever have with him.
I have to force my thoughts away from that, because there’s a tension in me, and a heat between my thighs, that’s making my mind go cloudy. It all ends if I don’t stay in the moment, soaking up every bit of love he has to give me.
His hands skim down my hips, and I gasp as he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he presses me against the door again. This time I’m on the same level as he is.
His eyes are dark, focused on mine. He’s watching me, silent, waiting for my reaction.
He rolls his hips into mine, slowly. My mouth drops open, and the breath rushes out of me.
I can feel him.
I can feel him, the hardness of him, his cock thick and firm in his trousers. He’s pressed up against me, and the thought of that, the idea of it, of what’s about to happen, has my insides trembling, and my thoughts turning wild.
“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my cheek.
“I’m not,” I whisper.
And I’m not. Not of him, anyway. Not of dying, not even of living. And this, feeling him all against me, my mind racing, is real living.
I feel like I’ve been burning for him since the day he rescued me, and finally, finally, I get him, all of him.
“Good,” he breathes that single word out, reverent and hopeful all at once.
