Page 297 of Primal Bonds

“Want what?”

“You.” His mouth whispered over hers. A barely-there touch that made her catch her breath.

Excitement skittered up her spine. Her breasts felt full and heavy, the nipples pushing against the silky chemise.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open to him. When she did, he tunneled his fingers into her hair, holding her still as his tongue explored the soft cave of her mouth—the sides, the sensitive roof.

She rose on her toes and twined her arms around his neck, sucking his tongue deeper. His groan made everything female in her clench.

Her leg was around his hip now, her sex rubbing against his.

Somewhere nearby, a seagull screeched.

Adric lifted his head, his breath uneven. “Let’s go back.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Adric’s heart was thumping, his dick so hard it ached.

Rosana strolled beside him, her mouth swollen from his kisses, her bare feet dusted with sand, her hair a silky black waterfall down her back.

She was a pagan priestess in red leather and jeans. The kind of woman who dropped men to their knees.

He shoved a hand through his hair. The woman shredded his control. She’d all but melted in his arms, making those needy little noises, rubbing against him. Driving him insane with her unpracticed, uninhibited moves.

He shouldn’t even be here with her. This could never go anywhere. But Rosana just had to crook a finger and he was there.

Her very innocence was a beacon to a man like him. A man who’d seen so much darkness, done so many dirty things that he’d never be truly clean.

He set an arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer. Because he could. He had one night with her, and he was going to enjoy it to the fullest.

She came readily. Their hips bumped, and she giggled, a young, happy sound.

His heart twisted. If only things were different…if only she were a member of his clan, a woman he could claim as his own.

You couldn’t claim her even then.

He was basically a dead man walking.

A less selfish man would stop this before it began, but he’d waited six-and-a-half years for her. He was damned if he’d turn back now.

He nuzzled her hair, breathing her in. His hand went to her round ass.

“When I get you back to the room,” he murmured in her ear, “I’m going to strip your jeans off you. But I won’t take your panties off. Not right away. I’m going to tease you first. Make you hot and wet. Make you beg a little.”

She moaned his name. The spice of her arousal teased his nostrils.

He smiled and ran his hand over the curve of her bottom. “Then, I’ll peel your panties off—but not fast. We’ll go slow, because it’s your first time. And I want to drive you a little crazy. And you’ll let me, won’t you?”

Her pretty mouth formed an O. Her breath sped up, and she hunched her shoulders. She nodded rapidly.

Gods, she was so young, and so much less experienced. On some level she’d been his since age sixteen, when they’d first met at Cleia & Dion’s mate ball.

And so, she’d waited for him.

He didn’t know why he was so sure, but he was.

I’ll be her first. His chest squeezed.

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