through his chest, a soft masculine growl that he makes in response to pain.
“You sure as hell can’t do that, killer.”
Still, he doesn’t try to pull away the harder I bite, he only stares at where my teeth are locked down on him, pure, angry lust rolling behind his amber eyes.
“And I sure as hell can’t kiss you.”
Yet that’s exactly what he does.
Just a quick flex of his hand and my mouth is open, our lips hovering together for just a brief second before he snaps his leash and his tongue dives into my mouth to slide against mine, his body moving to trap me in place as his hand shifts to hold my head in place.
I know better than to fight him. Not that I want to. This kiss is the first real breath I’ve taken in ten long, punishing years.
It’s not the first we’ve had. Not after what happened at the engagement party. But it’s the first where it’s just us.
Our souls laid bare.
Our hearts naked.
Our emotions so scraped and raw that we’re bleeding for each other.
And it’s violent, this kiss.
Feral.
Such a complete loss of sense and control that all I want to do is strip him of his clothes, ride his body and mark him with my nails down his skin. I want to own him...and let him own me.
I’m not alone in that thought.
Every last bit of restraint Ezra had is gone, and his hand fists the front of my shirt to pull me forward.
His mouth continues its erotic assault as I’m dragged up to kneel on the mattress, our bodies moving together until his posture mirrors mine.
Damn it, he’s so much larger than me that I feel tiny in comparison, our chests and the tops of our thighs pressed together, the hard ridge of his erection a warning and a promise against my stomach.
Ezra breaks the kiss, his fingers grasping my hair at the base of my skull to force my head back. His lips and teeth and tongue trail down my neck, biting, licking, kissing.
I can barely speak beneath the subtle threat of pain in the way he loves me.
“There should be a rule about this.”
“There is,” he breathes against my skin, his teeth catching the soft spot at my neck and shoulder that makes me moan.
“Then what are we doing?”
“Breaking it.”
Ezra tugs my shirt up my body, my arms lifting so he can pull it away entirely and toss it off the bed.
The muscles in my thighs burn from holding this position, but Ezra doesn’t care. He directs my hands to the mattress behind me, forcing my chest out, his knee shoving mine apart so that I’m fully exposed.
Still holding my head back, he runs his free hand from the base of my neck, down the center of my chest to my stomach, his voice rough as stone.
“Beautiful.”
And then his hand slides lower, his fingers running a soft, teasing trail over my panties, the silk soaked already for him.
A sound of gritty male approval rattles through his chest as a finger hooks the drenched silk to pull it up and tight against my pussy and clit, his head dipping down to suck the tight tip of my breast between cruel lips and sharp teeth.
I hiss at the sting of that bite, my hips rolling as he uses my panties to tease my clit, the friction not enough to get me off, but just enough to drive me crazy.
Releasing my hair, he locks his hand down on my hip to hold me in place, words whispered against my skin.
“Stay still.”
I do. Despite the way he bites the side of my breast, despite the shift of his large body as his teeth and tongue travel lower to lick and kiss, nip and mark my stomach.
It’s pure torture.
All he gives me where I need it most is the not-so-gentle tug of my panties, the friction pushing me closer to a place where I’ll explode into a million stars, all flickering and flashing as they write out his name before falling away into nothing.
Ezra’s head lifts again as he tastes and explores my skin, the rough stubble of his cheek a sensual scrape when his lips bite at the skin just below my jaw, his voice a deep whisper against my ear.
“Tell me to stop.”
He pulls my panties taut, and I gasp, my head falling back, my back arched forward, my eyes clenched shut, silently begging.
“I can’t,” I say, refusing what he wants.
It’s a soul-deep confession.
Because I