☉NAIREL
He was hard as granite behind me, and I ground against him, drawing a soft, almost cruel hiss from his lips. His tendrils crept over my skin, sending a chill down my spine. I shivered. "Be still," he snarled onto my skin. "Doing so may crack my focus. Just allow me to touch you." He palmed my breath for emphasis. A small cry came off my lips.
I arched and ground against him again, trying to guide his hand, and in a span of a blink, he pulled us back—away from the center of the study, tendrils roaring, the table groaning as he slammed his back against it. He pressed me harder against him, until there was no room for me to move. "You are quite stubborn," he said, his voice so guttural I barely recognized it. "Let me handle the touching—please."
She's mine…
What is it you want?
