Page 193 of Unbound

"Touch me," I demand, beyond caring about pride or patience. "I need you to touch me. Everywhere."

His smile is pure sin as he slides down my body, pressing kisses to my ribs, my stomach, my nipple, the sensitive mound of flesh between my legs. He tortures me, kissing a circle around my clit, so close I can feel his heat washing over me, but taking his time. Kiss by agonizing kiss.

When he finally pries my thighs apart and settles his face between my legs and meets my eyes, my breath catches. I grip his hair, tangling my fingers in it and squeezing in anticipation.

The first touch of his mouth against me is stunning. My back bows, a cry escaping my lips as pleasure surges through my body like a current. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as his tongue traces patterns that make coherent thought impossible.

I'm dimly aware of the candles around the room burning brighter, their flames stretching higher as they respond to the fire essence flaring in both our bodies. Shadows shift and dance across the walls as Raith continues his delicious torment, bringing me to the edge only to back away, again and again until I'm writhing beneath him, desperate for release.

"Damn it, Raith," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Stop teasing. I want to come. I want it so badly. Make me come, Raith."

His chuckle vibrates between my legs, deep, dark, and absolutely delicious. "Patience," he murmurs, but finally, mercifully, he focuses his attention on the spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.

Pressure builds within me, a coiling tension that grows tighter and tighter until it feels like I might shatter. When he slides one finger inside me, then a second, curling them to hit a spot that makes me cry out, it's too much. The tension breaks, release washing over me in a tidal wave of sensation.

I come with his name on my lips, my body arching off the bed as pleasure consumes me. His emotions cascade into mine, his desire amplifying my sensation, intensifying my climax until it seems endless, unbearable in its sweetness.

Before I've fully recovered, he's moving back up my body, his mouth claiming mine in a searing kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it sends a fresh surge of arousal through me despite my recent release.

"I need to feel you," I whisper against his lips, my hands moving to the waistband of his pants. "All of you. Inside me. Filling me.Now."

He helps me, shoving the fabric down his hips and kicking it away. When he settles back between my thighs, I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, hot and insistent.

His mouth trails down my neck, and I feel more than hear his words against my skin. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" I ask, already knowing his answer.

He raises his head, eyes burning into mine. "You can't fall for me. It's too fucking dangerous."

"What if it's too late for that?" I whisper.

Something shifts in his expression, a softening that makes my heart clench. He lowers his head, resting his forehead against mine. "What am I going to do with you, Nessa Thorne?"

"Love me," I whisper before I can stop myself. "Like I love you."

His entire body goes still, and for a moment I think I've ruined everything. Then I feel it—a pulse of emotion between us, raw and undeniable. Shock, wonder, and beneath it all, something that mirrors what I feel for him, something he's been desperately trying to deny.

"You can't love me," he says, but there's no conviction in his voice.

"I can feel it, Raith," I tell him, hands sliding into his hair. "You can lie to me with words, but not through the tether." I guide his hand to my chest, placing it over my heart. "What you feel, I feel. You love me too."

He closes his eyes, a tremor running through him. "You don't know what you're asking for," he says, his voice rough. "You don't know who I really am."

"Then tell me," I challenge. "Show me who you are, Raith Hollow. All of you."

For answer, he kisses me again, deep and searching, as if trying to pour everything he can't say into the connection of our bodies. I meet him halfway, giving back just as desperately.

He positions himself at my entrance, his eyes locked with mine, waiting for confirmation. I nod, lifting my hips in silent invitation.

I feel the brief flare of magic again—the trick fires can use to sterilize themselves.

Then he’s pushing into me, inch by exquisite inch, giving me time to adjust to the stretch, to the fullness.

When buried in me all the way, the sensation is even more overwhelming than that first time. I already know the feel of him, the perfect way our bodies fit together, but there's something about this moment—maybe the knowledge that tomorrow could be our last—that makes everything more intense, more significant.

"You feel like you were fucking made for me," he murmurs, his voice strained with the effort of remaining still.

"Move," I urge, my hands sliding down to grip his hips. "Please, Raith."

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