Page 5 of Wicked Savage

My heart skips, stuttering in my chest as the heat of his touch sets a fire in places I never thought I'd feel.

“How can you know when you haven’t even seen my face?” I tease, my smile tugging at the edges.

“Am I wrong?” His lips turn into a wicked smirk, and I feel the pull of it deep inside me.

My body tenses, caught between the tension he creates and the hunger that starts to build.

“Try and find out,” I say, lower than I intended.

But he doesn’t smile. Instead, his hand tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, until I’m pressed against the hard length of him. Fingers slide up to my jaw, gripping it with a force that steals my breath.

“I’ll take that bet.” A low, gravelly growl rumbles from him.

His thumb brushes across my lips—once, then twice—as his gaze flickers to my mouth for a brief moment. When those eyes burn into mine, I inhale sharply, the air between us thick with awareness.

“Jesus,” he mutters under his breath, chest rising sharply like he’s fighting with himself. Fighting the urge to kiss me. To do more than that.

The energy between us crackles, undeniable and electric, and I know without a doubt I’d do anything to make him kiss me. But instead of leaning in, he holds back, his thumb still lingering against my lips, sending waves of heat through me.

He mutters something under his breath, something I can’t catch, and lets out a deep, almost frustrated sigh. “I should go.”

But instead of pulling away, his grip on my chin tightens and he draws me even closer, his breath hot against my skin.

“Why?” I can’t hide the desperation.

I don’t want him to leave. Not until I know who he is. Not until I’ve had more of him.

“I have somewhere else to be.” His words make a knot of disappointment form in my chest.

“That’s too bad.” My mouth parts in protest, but before I can say another word, his thumb feathers across my bottom lip.

I can’t help it. My tongue flicks out, tasting him.

“Fuck,” he groans, his fingers tightening around my chin, and then he finally lets me go.

But he doesn’t step back. Doesn’t walk away. He stays right there, eyes never leaving mine.

“I’ll see you around, a ghra.” His words are a whisper, a promise.

And then he starts to pull away.

He’s just a stranger. A man I’ll never see again. So why does it feel like a piece of me is slipping away with him?

“Wait.” I grab his bicep, and he jerks slightly, muscles shifting under my fingers.

“A ghra. What does it mean?” I ask, breathless, eager to hold on to whatever this is.

A roguish grin spreads across his face as he stalks closer. His lips brush the edge of my ear, sending a jolt of electricity straight down my limbs.

“Try and find out.”

The need in my core intensifies, aching and raw, and I know I’m on the edge of something I can’t pull back from.

“I’ll take that bet,” I breathe out, the words a challenge I never intended to make.

He chuckles darkly, low and rich, the sound vibrating through me. “Happy birthday, beautiful.”

Then, before I can process what’s happening, he presses a kiss to my cheek—so soft, so light, I almost don’t believe it’s real.

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