"I could take you right now," he growled, lips moving back to hers. "Rip these jeans off, bend you over, and bury myself so deep inside you, you'd forget your own name."
Lydia trembled. Her body was begging. Her mind was drowning.
"Please," she whispered. Not sure if it was for him or for mercy.
But he stilled.
His hands cupped her face, and for one second, just one of his eyes softened. "Not here," he said, voice strained. "When I finally have you, I want a bed. I want time. I want to ruin you slowly."
It was the promise in his voice that nearly undid her. Not the filth. The reverence.
Still, something dark crept in. Her fingers pressed to his chest, gently, then with more insistence.
"And after that?" she asked, voice fragile. "After you get what you want, do you s
