Eli & Ronan
Eli
He doesn’t touch me at first.
Just stands there like a storm barely leashed, shoulders heaving, gold eyes locked on mine like he’s trying to decide if he should devour me or drag me back out into the snow and bury me in it.
My skin is on fire. Not metaphorically. Literally.
The heat pulses like a second heartbeat beneath my flesh, crawling up my spine, licking down my thighs, soaking between them in ways I’m too humiliated to acknowledge. I’m naked, trembling, half feral with need, and he hasn’t even taken off his coat.
"Well?" I rasp, voice hoarse. "You going to stand there until I combust, or are you going to do something?"
His nostrils flare. A low growl escapes him. Not angry. Something darker. Hungrier.
"You think you’re ready to go toe to toe with me?" he asks
