Page 62 of Wild Bond

“And,” he added almost as an afterthought, “if what I’ve surmised from the little you’ve told me is correct, you were only caught stealing the sword because you were helping a friend. I find that admirable, not a testament to your lack of skill.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are impossible and determined to miss my point.”

“No, I see your point. I’m just telling you I don’t care.”

I gaped. “How can you not care? What will other people think when they see us together?”

“I don’t care what other people think . . . I haven’t for a long time.” He gripped the nape of my neck and tilted my head up toward him. The thumb of his other hand traced over my lower lip. There was a low rumble in his throat as he spoke his next words, almost as if the dragon inked on his skin was bleeding into his voice as he declared, “This is between us. What we feel for one another—no one else matters. No one else gets a say in this. Only you,” his head bent, and his lips traced over mine, “and me.”

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” I said, unable to catch my breath.

He drew back. “Who says it won’t?”

My gaze searched his, suddenly very aware that someone could come in here any second and find us like this. Unbidden, my eyes darted to the doors and then whipped back to Rake’s face when he chuckled.

“No one will disturb us,” he assured me. “Skye and Naasir will keep them out.” Sure enough, as I searched our link, I could see that Skye and Naasir were indeed lounging just outside the entrance. Skye was currently cleaning her claws and ignoring the fact that Naasir was watching her closely.

My gaze came back into focus on Rake’s face, and he was wearing that all too familiar half-smirk. “See?”

I rolled my eyes. “That still doesn’t mean I—”

My words were cut off when I suddenly found myself pressed up against a hard chest, my naked body lining up perfectly with his. My eyes widened at the feel of the thick hardness of him pressing against the heat of my lower belly under the water.

“Oh!” I gasped.

“I missed you, little thief,” he said, pulling back slightly and letting his large hand slip down between us. His fingers started a steady glide up and down my belly, travelling lower with each stroke. Pleasure rippled along my skin and up my spine, warming me. “Let me show you how good it can be . . . why none of the rest of it matters.”

“Rake,” I moaned.

He swallowed the sound with his mouth. Desire awakened with a hot pulse as he kissed me so forcefully, I felt like I was drowning in him.

His other hand came up to palm my breast. “These,” he murmured, his thumb lightly grazing over the nipple in slow delicious circles until it puckered tightly, “have been driving me mad during this entire conversation.”

He began kissing along my throat and down to my collarbone before his mouth found the neglected nipple of my other breast. The wet heat of his mouth felt incredible, and I whimpered at the feeling as he sucked and nipped. Need rose in me like a scorching flame, and my hands found their way into his hair, holding him to me.

I had never felt anything quite like this.

I had been with a man before, but only once, and it had hurt and hadn’t lasted very long. It was just before I was imprisoned. One night I had overheard some of Madame Rosalina’s girls at the brothel discussing clients of theirs. I had been curious and lonely and decided I wanted to know what sex was like. The man—or boy really—had been another street kid like me, but I hadn’t felt with him a tenth of what Rake had already made me feel tonight with little more than a kiss.

Rake’s hand that had been stroking along my lower belly dipped below the water and cupped between my legs, bringing me back to the present.

My breath stalled in my chest as he pulled away to stare down at me. Our eyes met, held, and I knew he was asking for permission as a single finger teased my opening.

I nodded jerkily, though the way my hips involuntarily pressed into his hand was probably permission enough.

He kissed me again as the heel of his hand pushed down on a particularly sensitive spot, and I jolted at the pleasure of it. Then that one hard, thick finger sank inside me, and I was lost to sensation.

I writhed as his hand flexed and rubbed until I was panting against his mouth, and my body arched upward. He eventually added a second finger to the first, and the stretch of his invasion felt incredible. I whimpered as our panting breaths mingled. All I was aware of was where he touched me, and the frenzied claws of desire wracking through me as every muscle in my body tightened and spasmed. I cried out into his mouth. He continued to press into me with his fingers, letting me experience every wave of pleasure and earth-shattering jolt.

Eventually everything released, and my body relaxed in a heady, exhausting rush. He let his fingers slow and then still all together as he gentled me with light kisses.

He pulled free of my body, and I opened my eyes—not realizing I had closed them—in time to see him press those fingers into his mouth, tasting me on his skin. He never took his eyes from mine as he did, and an immediate blush colored my cheeks. Completely scandalized and yet hot and achy at the brazen action.

That sensual mouth quirked in a sly grin. “I love it when I make you blush,” he murmured. His voice dark and hypnotic in the quiet of our surroundings. He kissed me again, and I could taste the smile on his lips before he pulled away.

My fingers came up to trace over the markings on his shoulder and pec. “What about you?” I asked, refusing to acknowledge the blush deepening on my cheeks at daring the question. My eyes dropped to what I could just make out below the water. His stomach muscles clenched and his eyes heated, but he shook his head.

“Later,” he promised. “Tonight, I just wanted to watch you.” One of those muscular arms extended to me, and his hand once more traced down my cheek. “I want to savor this—you. We have time. I’m in no rush.”

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