Page 37 of Can't Get No Satyrfaction

His blood heated, his cock swelling inside his sheath. “Are you sure? I told you that this time there would be no going back. That I would claim you.”

“I know.” She nipped lightly at his bottom lip. “I want to be with you, Thorn. All of you.”

He growled, low in his throat, and she shivered. The air between them crackled with energy, and he knew he couldn’t resist her, even if he wanted to. And gods help him, he didn’t want to resist. Not anymore.

He lifted her into his arms, ignoring her squeak of surprise and carried her over to the pool, laying her out on the thick bed of flowering moss. She gazed up at him, hair spread around her like a fiery halo.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, running a finger along the delicate line of her jaw.

She blushed, turning her face into his touch. “Thorn…”

“Let me touch you.” It was half request, half demand.

She nodded, and he wasted no time, hands roaming over her body, checking for any hidden injuries or signs of pain. But she was perfect—warm and soft and responsive to his touch.

“Thorn…” she whispered, and he looked up to find her watching him with an expression that stole his breath. Trust, desire, affection—all mixed together in those big, blue eyes.

He rose up, covering her body with his, claiming her lips in a kiss that left them both gasping. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned, lost in the sensation of her beneath him.

“I want you.” His voice came out hoarse, strained, but she didn’t pull away, leaning closer.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He shook his head, trying to find the words as his thumb feathered over her neck, the reddened place on her neck still visible.

“I don’t just mean now. I want to claim you. To make you mine forever.”

CHAPTER 19

Sylvie looked up at Thorn leaning down over her, his horns silhouetted against the sky. Her heart thudded against her ribs. She knew she was being impulsive again, but nothing had ever felt so right. When he’d asked her to stay, she’d realized that she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to wake up in his arms every morning and go to sleep with him each night. To explore the forest together. And she trusted him completely.

She reached up, tracing his jawline with a fingertip. “Yes.”

A shudder ran through him, his muscles tensing. His mouth crashed against hers, claiming her in a deep, demanding kiss that stole her breath.

This was no gentle exploration. It was a declaration of intent, a promise of things to come. And she welcomed it, opening herself to him.

She arched into his touch, reveling in the feel of his big, rough hands sliding over her skin, stripping away her clothes until there was nothing between them. He kissed a path down herneck, pausing to lick and nibble at her collarbone. She squirmed, heat building between her thighs. She needed more. Needed him.

As if sensing her desperation, he moved lower, capturing a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard enough to make her cry out. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he teased and tormented the sensitive peak.

His name fell from her lips like a prayer, and he responded with a growl, teeth scraping lightly against her skin. The sharp contrast made her gasp, back arching off the ground. She moaned as he moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. By the time he raised his head she was trembling, breath coming in shallow pants.

He gazed down at her, his green eyes darkened to emerald. “You’re mine, Sylvie.”

“Yes.” The word escaped on a sigh, and he growled low in his throat.

“Say it again.” He nipped at her bottom lip.

“I’m yours.” The words sent a thrill through her, heat pooling low in her belly.

His mouth found hers again, tongue delving deep as he claimed her. His hands explored her body, stroking and teasing, driving her need higher with each touch.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was panting, her skin flushed and sensitive. He smirked down at her, looking every inch the fierce forest warrior. She knew she should be scared, but all she felt was a sense of rightness. Of coming home.

His hand slipped between her thighs, finding the wet heat of her core. She gasped as he stroked her, teasing her entrance with one thick finger. He watched her face intently, as if memorizing every reaction.

“So wet,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her throat. “So perfect.”

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