Luna

His weight presses me into the ground, the fire flickering behind him, throwing molten shadows across his silver hair, his sharp jaw, the wicked smirk curving his lips as he kisses me deep and filthy, like he’s trying to ruin me with his mouth alone.

And fuck, it’s working.

I arch against him, my nails scraping up his back beneath his shirt, feeling the flex of hard muscle, the way he shudders when I drag them lower.

He groans into my mouth, pulling back just enough for his lips to graze mine as he exhales, breathless and wrecked. Then, slowly, his lashes lift.

And I swear to god, I forget how to breathe.

Because Elias Dain, the most unserious bastard I know, is looking at me like he wants to break me apart and lick up the pieces.

His silver eyes glow, molten and liquid, dragging over my face, my lips, my throat, where he’s already left a mark, before flicking back up, hungry.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, shaking his head slightly, like he’s already losing himself in me. Then, lips quirking, voice dark as sin, “You’re too pretty for your own good, you know that?”

I huff a breathless laugh, but it catches when I feel his hand on my waist, fingers flexing against my bare skin like he’s holding himself back.

I don’t want him to.

So I don’t give him the chance.

I sit up just enough to grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it aside.

Elias stills.

His breath stutters.

His gaze drops, raking down my bare skin, the sharp cut of his jaw tightening as he takes in the sight of me beneath him.

And then, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip, slow, as he exhales, “Holy fuck.”

Heat flares low in my stomach, sharp and dizzying.

I reach back, unhooking my bra, letting the straps slide down my arms, slow, deliberate, because I can feel the way he’s barely breathing.

The fabric falls away.

And Elias Dain fucking groans.

His hands are on my waist in a second, tight, his fingers flexing like he wants to grab, to worship, to take. He drags me closer, until our bodies are flush, his breath shuddering against my lips.

I smirk, tilting my head. “You were saying?”

His answering growl vibrates through my chest.

Then his mouth is on me.

Hot, wet, devouring, he leans down, dragging his tongue over my breast, slow and torturous, before taking my nipple between his lips and sucking.

A gasp rips from my throat, my back arching, my fingers diving into his silver hair and yanking.

I swear I see stars.

“Elias. ”

He hums against my skin, dragging his tongue across the swell of my breast, moving to the other, his lips curling in a lazy, smug grin.