Page 107 of Pretty Savage: Defy

Then I take his mouth with mine.

Carrson opens under the urging of my lips. His tongue sweeps in to meet mine with a hunger that pulls me closer. A groan vibrates through his chest. His hips lift, pressing his hard length against my core. His arms twitch, the muscles of his shoulders bunching under my hands. The chair creaks as his body surges toward me, like he wants to tear free and wrap his arms around me.

He stops himself.

I pull back, smiling when his lips follow mine, and raise one finger between us. “Uh-uh.”

His breath fans against my face, already coming fast.

“Stay still,” I whisper, not entirely convinced he’ll listen.

I stand and take a step back. Carrson groans again, this one full of frustration rather than longing.

“Laurel.”

“Shh.”

He falls silent, but the rest of him doesn’t. His chest rises too quickly. The muscles in his arms stand out under his open shirt. His thighs tense beneath his pants.

He could free himself whenever he chose.

He stays where I put him.

Fuck, that’s sexy.

He watches with curiosity as I lean down, running my hand over the bulge in his pants. His erection jumps when I brush against it, but I don’t pause. I glide my palm down the inside of his thigh. When I reach his calf, I push up the leg of his jeans and find the narrow sheath strapped against his skin.

Understanding dawns on his face as my fingers curl around the dagger’s handle. I draw it from its sheath, the polished black grip warm from where it rested against his skin. Of all Carrson’s weapons, daggers are his favorite. He keeps one with him at all times, even puts one under the pillow when he sleeps.

“What’re you—” he says, sounding alarmed, but his pupils widen as he watches the dagger in my hand. Fear isn’t the only thing moving through him. I can tell from the hungry look he’s giving me.

I raise the dagger until its point hovers in front of my lips, another command for him to remain silent. Holding his gaze, I cup one breast while lowering the dagger toward the hem of my skirt.

Carrson exhales so hard I can hear the whoosh of his breath.

I hide my smile and pull down my corset. No longer restrained, my breasts spring free, spilling over the top of the black lace. I slide one finger into my mouth and suck it while lifting my skirt with the other hand. The flat of the blade glides along my inner thigh, cool against skin already hot from his attention.

Carrson tracks the movement with wide, unwavering eyes.

I release my finger with a soft pop and bring the wet tip to my nipple, circling it.

His lips part. “Fuck.” The word leaves him, exhaled as a low rasp.

My other hand reaches my panties. I hook my underwear aside, securing the dagger against my palm while two fingers find my clit.

I circle it in time with the fingertip moving over my nipple. The sensations meet inside me, dragging a moan from my throat as my head tips back. I widen my stance and raise the skirt higher, making sure Carrson can see.

When I look at him again, his gaze is fixed between my thighs.

I withdraw my fingers and curl them around the dagger’s handle. I turn the weapon until the blade points toward the floor and the rounded end rests against my entrance.

Carrson’s favorite weapon. The thing he reaches for when danger gets too close, when words aren’t enough.

Maybe this is what I’ve been trying to show him all night.

I can hold the most dangerous parts of him without fearing them. I can bring them close and still understand they aren’t all he is.

Without looking away from him, I ease the handle inside me.