Page 197 of Claimed At First Sight

My hand tightens in her hair as I drag my mouth from hers and trace her lower lip before taking it between my teeth and biting down lightly. She writhes, her body seeking mine in a way that challenges my control.

My hard length presses against the most intimate part of her, the part no man has ever touched. The knowledge sends another surge of possessiveness through me.

She shifts beneath me, seeking more pressure. Then her hips begin a slow, instinctive rhythm.

“Max,” she moans, her eyes darkening.

Hearing my name torn from her like that makes me so hard it hurts.

She grinds against me and pleasure tears through my veins. My hips answer before I can stop them. I press hard into her as I swallow her next moan with my mouth.

The friction is exquisite, enough to make the muscles in my body tighten, urging me to give in and take this as far as she will let me.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

This belongs to our wedding night. I won’t take her for the first time before she has even agreed to become my wife, no matter how desperately my body wants her.

She breaks our kiss with a gasp, dragging air into her lungs, but her body doesn’t stop moving. Each restless circle of her hips presses her against the full length of me.

The urge to keep going until I see her come undone is overwhelming. With the next shift of her pelvis, she destroys my determination to stop this before she finds her release.

I want to show her how good I can make her feel without even slipping a hand between her thighs, to make her shatter from nothing more than the pressure of my body on hers.

I drive my hips into her, letting her experience every hard inch of what she does to me. Her lips part as she gasps.

“That’s it, little rebel,” I groan, my voice rough beyond recognition. “Take what you need. Let me watch you fall apart.”

Her cheeks are flushed and her lips swollen from my kisses. Her frantic movements tell me how close she is.

She squeezes her eyes shut, retreating from me at the very moment I want to see her most.

“Uh-uh. Eyes on me.”

Her lashes lift slowly, and the look in her eyes nearly finishes me.

“Rule number one,” I tell her, holding her gaze. “When we’re intimate, you never look away from me.”

She moans as I rock against her. “I want to see every flicker of pleasure on your face, Mia. I want to watch you lose control and know I’m the one who made it happen.”

Her hands wander down my back and close over my ass, gripping me and pulling me harder against her. Her boldness nearly makes me abandon the boundary I’ve set.

Balancing my weight on one forearm, I catch her wrist and guide her arm above her head before shifting to collect the other. I secure both wrists in one hand and pause, watching closely for her reaction.

She doesn’t resist. Her fingers flex within my grasp as her body chases the friction. Her eyes remain fixed on mine, her pupils so wide they nearly consume the warm brown of her irises.

She’s close now, but I keep the pace steady, refusing to let her fall over the edge quite yet.

Her whimpers come out in broken little sounds, her wrists straining within my hold as her hips lift restlessly in search of something the pressure of my body can’t quite give her.

“Max,” she pleads. “Touch me, please.”

The request tests my control. For one moment, I imagine sliding my hand under the waistband of her pants, discovering how ready she is for me and giving her everything her body is asking for.

My fingers tighten around her wrists as I fight the impulse.

“Not tonight, little rebel.”