Page 91 of Wrath

I understood a lot of things.

It didn’t mean I had to like it.

With an almost blistering speed, I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, yanked him towards me, and stopped when his lips were a mere inch from my own. “You better come back to me. Youallbetter come back to me.”

“We will,” he vowed solemnly, his hooded eyes lowering to my lips and sticking there.

I wetted them with a sound of regret. “Because if you don’t…”

“You’ll kill me?”

“I’ll castrate you,” I told him seriously.

At that, his gaze flicked to my eyes, his lips parting in surprise.

I smirked. “I know how to.”

“How many men have you castrated?”

I didn’t know if he sounded horrified or amused. Maybe a mixture of both?

I shrugged a single shoulder. “Lost count after ten.”

“You castrated ten guys?”

“At least ten. Definitely more.” I flexed my fingers in his shirt. “Now, can we stop talking about dismembered penises? I want to kiss you.”

A sinful smirk unfurled on the shifter’s lips. “Just kiss?”

I allowed my hands to trail down his sculpted torso and stopped when they reached the hem of his shirt.

“Maybe a little more than kiss…” As I spoke, I tugged at the fabric, easily pulling it over his head.

My breath hitched as I studied Lupe’s half-naked body.

He truly was a beautiful man, exuding raw masculinity and strength and power. Every muscle was clearly defined, cut from granite, and rippled when he moved. I’d never found overly muscular guys attractive before, but Lupe was a different story. How could I not find him sex personified?

With surprising tenderness, Lupe cupped my cheek, his eyes searching my face. “I love you, Z. You know that, right? You’re my entire world.”

Emotion clogged my throat, and I twisted my head to kiss the inside of his wrist. “I love you too.”

I didn’t know if he moved first or if I did. All I knew was that we were kissing, our tongues tangling, his body hovering over mine on the uncomfortably small cot. He held himself up on his forearms to avoid crushing me, and I took the opportunity to run my fingers over the chiseled planes of his chest and stomach, his corded biceps, the length of his arms. Basically, anywhere I could reach.

In less than five seconds, he removed my shirt, and Lupe’s lips hovered over my aching nipple. His warmth breath wafted over the tight bud.

“Lupe…” I squirmed, attempting to gyrate my hips against his thigh, but he stopped me with a single hand to my neck.

He applied a tiny bit of pressure—not enough to cut off my air supply, but enough to send lust careening through my bloodstream.

“Stay still,” he warned, his voice a low growl that traveled through me.

I whimpered.

He kept his hand around my throat as he brought his lips to my aching nipple and sucked it into his mouth. His tongueflicked the sensitive nub, and I arched instinctively, a gasp catching in my throat.

His fingers flexed on my skin.

Slowly, he lifted his head from my breast until he could see my expression.

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