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“One,” she said, ignoring his comment. “There’s only one rule—we do whatever feels good for both of us, and when it doesn’t, we say something and stop.”
He regarded her with a sizzling kind of assessment for a moment, his mouth curving into a roguish smile. “This might be the first rule in my life I’ll agree with.”
She gave a curt nod, then took a deep breath. “So.”
“So.”
Not taking his eyes off hers, he reached out slowly, took the beer bottle out of her hand, and set it on the side table next to the couch. One tense moment of pulsing silence, the only sign of his agitation his quickened breath—
Next thing she knew, he had her pressed against the wall, his body a delicious weight pinning her in place, and his mouth crashing down on hers, erasing all thought.
CHAPTER 10
He’d waited. So. Long. And he’d had elaborate plans of how to do this right, how to savor the little steps leading up to this first kiss.
It all burned away in the blaze of his hunger the moment he let it from its leash.
The curves of her body pressing against him, her scent a tantalizing dare, he plundered her mouth. No lead-up. No finesse. Just raw need and seven months of craving crammed into a kiss that was half biting.
And she bit him right back.
Her hands came up to his neck, and for a second, he thought she might try to strangle him, but her fingers tunneled into his hair instead. She pulled his head back with a fist tangled in the strands, leaned forward, and licked over his throat—nipped at him.
Fire all along his spine, straight down to his cock.
With a groan, he grabbed her under one knee, lifted her leg, and thrust his hips, putting pressure right at the juncture of her thighs. Half to give in to his own need, half to drive hers up higher. Even through layers of clothing still covering them both—why?—the friction was enough to draw a moan from her, make her break away from his neck.
He wrapped his hand around her braid—always with that prim, neat braid—and yanked her head back in turn. Those dark eyes of hers blazed with a black fire, and when he bit the curve where her neck met her shoulder, she jerked, shoved her hips against his.
“That how it’s gonna be, then?” he muttered against her skin. “Rough?”
Her response was a flicker of stinging magic in sync with her nails digging into his shoulders—hard. No matter the fact that he was physically stronger, her witch powers made her more dangerous, and she knew it, reminded him of it.
He gave a dry laugh and drew back just enough to let her see his face. “You know the moment I knew I wanted to fuck you? When you hit me with that bloody truth spell the night I came to you. Gave me a fucking hard-on that lasted for hours.” He ground against her, let her feel exactly how hard he was for her now. “So if you think your magic scares me…it’s quite the opposite, sweetheart.”
Something flickered over her expression, even as she undulated against him. “You like it when I show you my claws.” A soft, soft statement, underscored by a pulse of her power against his senses.
“Don’t hold back on my account.”
Her mouth—that beautiful, kiss-ravaged mouth—curved into a sinful smile. A surge of magic, and then he found himself on his back on the couch, Hazel straddling him. Her breath came looser now, as if she’d rid herself of a restricting corset. Face flushed, her lips dark from arousal, she rose above him, a vision of a raven-haired witch who breathed power.
His hands on her hips, squeezing. “What else can you do with that magic of yours? Naughty things?”
“Of course not,” she murmured while running her hand up underneath his T-shirt, leaving prickling, hot and cold tingles in her wake, an imprint of her power on his skin.
He inhaled sharply, grabbed her wrist, and shoved it lower. “I want that touch on my cock.”
She stopped at his waistband, looking at him from underneath her lashes. “You’re demanding.”
“I’m also generous,” he bit out, popping the button on his jeans, “and know how to give back.”
Her gaze focused on his mouth, and he grinned.
“I’ve got plans,” he said, “to put this mouth to good use on you, baby.”
She scraped her nails over the skin just above his waistband, trailing magical fire wherever she touched. He popped another button, the tip of his cock straining past the opening material. Hazel’s teasing strokes faltered for a second as she focused on his dick, and the parting of her lips and the color on her cheeks were the sweetest juxtaposition of reactions.
The slightest insecurity flickered over her face just before she wrapped her hand around him—and his hips bucked off the couch at the feel of her fingers squeezing him with an infusion of magical heat.
