Page 108 of Gunnar

“It means my younger brother, with all good intentions, has gone and done something spectacularly dumb.” He swings his legs off the bed, then pauses, shoulders tight. “They’re a cunning bunch of assholes. I don’t believe for a moment they want to broker peace. They want blood. But not Orson’s. They could have killed him already, and they didn’t.”

He looks back at me.

“This is bad, isn’t it?” I whisper.

“It is.”

He scrubs a hand over his face again—and then his gaze drops.

His eyes trail over me—down to my bare breasts exposed above the comforter—and back up again.

“Two minutes,” he says.

Then he slides back in beside me, pulling me into his arms.

He kisses me, long and deep, his hands moving through my hair, over my body.

“How did you sleep, my precious?”

“Perfectly,” I say.

He lifts my hair from my shoulder and inspects the mark. It’s still a little tender to his touch.

“It tingles,” I say.

He makes a pleased sound. “That’ll happen when we’re close,” he says. “It’s the mate bond.”

“Really?” I say. “I like that.”

He lets out a groan. “Okay, I should go,” he says.

But he doesn’t move.

He’s poised over me, like he’s barely containing himself.

Desire flares through my body.

“Two more minutes,” I say.

I spread my legs, hook my ankles around his hips.

“Two minutes,” I whisper against his jaw.

He’s already there, pushing at my entrance.

“So wet,” he mutters.

I can feel it—how ready I am for him.

He pushes into me. It’s easier this time since I’m no longer a virgin.

One long thrust and my whole body lights up, needing him deep inside me, needing him to claim me again.

His hand comes up to the back of my neck, keeping me right where he wants me.

“Alexandria,” he says, low and rough.

I hold on to him as the feeling builds, more intense this time, my body pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go.