Page 59 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

“Take your hair out.”

His brows rose, but he did as I asked, his lips curling up on one side. “You like it down?” his voice was gruff, ragged.

“Sometimes. I like it when you look at me through it.”

Smile growing broader, he dropped his head forward and shook his hair out, then raised his chin to stare at me out from between the strands he’d loosed, grinning like a cat about to take the cream. “Like this?”

My heart flipped. “Yes.”

His breath was growing heavy, his chest rising and falling more quickly. I had to swallow the strange knot of nerves and excitement that crawled up my throat.

I looked down at his hands and wanted them on me so badly—but I was still afraid my body would recoil and I’d shut down. I bit my lip and let my eyes draw to his belt, considering unbuttoning his trousers—there was already a slight bulge there—but when I dragged my gaze up to his face, he stared at me like I held the answers to heaven in my eyes.

I swallowed. “What’s your favorite part?” I whispered. “Your favorite thing, when we make love?”

“Watching you come,” he said hoarsely, without hesitation. “I love watching you, always. All of it. But when you reach your peak…” he cleared his throat and his gaze turned hot.

I liked it. “Unbuckle your belt… and unbutton your trousers.”

He moved so quickly, the buckle of his belt clinking as he tugged it loose, then fumbled at the buttons, I had to stifle a giggle. Then I sucked in a breath when he stopped, hands poised, but a question in his eyes.

Without breaking his gaze, I tried to speak, but had to clear my throat. “Free yourself,” I whispered.

His eyes went dark as he pulled himself free and sighed with relief. I looked down and stared at him, already hard and standing tall, curving slightly towards his belly, the dark thatch of hair behind drawing a line to his navel.

I swallowed, but smiled as well, because the sight hadn’t frightened me—I hadn’t been sure if it would. But it only made my belly simmer.

Tearing my gaze from that part of him, I scanned his beautiful torso again.

His breath was growing faster and his eyes had darkened, his pupils overtaking most of the hazel beauty of his irises. He wanted me. I could feel it. He wanted me with a bonfire of need.

And that made me brave.

“Touch yourself,” I said, then clapped hands to my mouth, half-embarrassed at my own boldness. But Donavyn smiled and gripped himself, stroking slowly as he stared into my wide eyes, squeezing harder than I thought he’d like.

Unable to look away, I watched—saw him grow fuller, and his chest heave as he began to pant, his ragged breath audible in the quiet room.

“Oh God, Bren. When you stare at me like that…”

I looked up to find his eyes hooded, his lower lip slack.

He cursed. “I don’t want to come like this unless… unless you want me to?”

I was surprised—he usually had a great deal of control. But then I realized… of course he’d be sensitive. It had been nearly a week.

“Stop,” I said quickly.

He did, immediately, but he was panting—and I breathed heavily too, I realized.

“Take off your trousers.”

Donavyn didn’t hesitate, snapping forward to untie his boots and throw them off, then shucked off the buff pants. He straightened again, more slowly, staring at me, his hair down, powerful body bare.

And he was stunning.

His hazel eyes glowed out from under his hair like a predator in the grass. The tendons on his neck were taut, his shoulders broad, and rolling with his deepening breath. His arms, so strong, biceps carved and the forearms veined and flexing as he forced himself not to touch me.

The flat planes of his chest rose and fell. I wanted to rest my head on them, but I continued to stare. My gaze slid down his abdomen, which was tight, his muscles carved from marble.