Page 35 of Winter’s Fire

The man was deadly. The vow cut through her with the lethal precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. “I want that too.”

He lifted his head, and in his gaze, his expression, the way he held himself, was a fire that would consume her without mercy.

“Be careful what you wish for, princess.”

The low, warning growl sent a shiver along her spine, but not through fear. Her galloping pulse kicked up a gear, heading for the sound barrier at breakneck speed.

“I told you—I want it all.”

The dare was in her words and her voice, and he didn’t disappoint. In one swift movement he was on all fours over her, caging her body with his. She feasted on the taut muscles, the sense of leashed power, and the long, thick cock already erect and straining to take her.

How would it feel when his body merged with hers and he was inside her?

What if he were bare inside her?

Desire for this dominant male devoured every trace of the prim, proper version of Lucy Winter, leaving behind a woman torn apart by primal sexual hunger. Without thinking, she licked her lips, and in an instant, her mouth was crushed beneath his. The swipe of his tongue over her lower lip—slow, sensual, intense—was a demand for entrance to which she eagerly yielded.

Logan possessed a powerful, wicked magic, and with each passing moment, the web of enchantment he wove around her became more complex and intricate.

“Then let me give it to you.”

She was in his hands now. “Whatever you want, Sir.”

Because whatever it was, she wanted it too.

She trembled when he moved to sit beside her. The searing heat of his gaze raked over every square millimetre of her skin, and made words unnecessary. No man had ever looked at her with such sizzling intensity, as if he could see through her defences, right to the heart of everything she was.

“There are things I want to show you, Lucy. What you’ve learned so far… knowing the lifestyle in your head isn’t the same as understanding it to the core of everything you are, feeling it in every breath you take.”

Feeling it the way he did. It was woven into his DNA, she understood that now.

“May I ask questions, Sir?”

His predatory smile set off a thousand butterflies in her stomach.

“You can try, princess, but if you’re able to ask questions, then sure as hell, I’m doing something wrong.”

And from the very next kiss, Lucy knew, with more certainty than she knew her own name, that Logan was incapable of doing this wrong.

The necklace of open-mouthed, feather-light kisses surprised her with its tenderness. A lick here, a nip there, and all thought of asking questions vaporised in an inferno of sensation. The world collapsed in on itself, until all that remained was the two of them.

She murmured an incoherent protest, a frown creasing her brow, but he took her murmurs in his mouth, kissing them away as arousal flowed like honey through her limbs. Her hips lifted in silent supplication, but pressure from his palm on her mound restrained her.

“Not yet.” The words hummed across the sensitised skin between her breasts. “You don’t have to say or do anything. Don’t even think—just feel.”

Oh, she felt. So much, a jumble of primitive, nameless impulses in an alien universe with him at the centre. She clenched her fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms. The little crescents of pain helped her to focus.

“Don’t fight it. Let it take you.”

A new wave of heat from the slow, sensual caresses that followed washed over her, and the last of her inhibitions melted away. Gazing into his eyes, heavy-lidded and midnight-dark with desire, she was overtaken by something stronger, more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

“Don’t be afraid, Lucy. I’m here.”

The rich timbre of his voice—deeper than normal—resonated through her body, and an avalanche of longing crashed through her defences.

“Until this scene is done, you’re mine.”

“I’m not arguing, Sir.”