Page 17 of Ghost
“Please don’t.”
A sound like pain rips from his throat. His mouth claims mine again, harder this time, all restraint shattering.
I roll my hips against him. Need sparks like lightning through my body, electrifying everything Steffan tried to beat into silence. Mason devours my mouth, one hand gripping my hip, the othersliding up my ribs, leaving fire in his wake. When he pulls back to kiss down my throat, I arch into the contact, offering more.
Every touch erases another memory of Steffan, replacing fear with fire. When Mason breaks the kiss to trace his lips down my throat, I tilt my head back in willing surrender.
His teeth graze the tender skin below my jaw. A question. A dare.
Instead of retreating, I pull him closer, fingers curling into his hair.
He pauses, his breath warm against my skin.
His teeth press a little more firmly, testing my boundaries, waiting to see how far I’m willing to go. My heart pounds in my chest, excitement and anticipation swirling within me. I slide my fingers into his hair, pulling him close, signaling that this is what I want.
He groans, low and primal, and his hand moves to the small of my back, yanking me tighter to him. The world beyond this cabin—the storm, the danger, my past—vanishes beneath the weight of this moment.
I never imagined I could feel this way with someone I barely know. But maybe that’s the key. With Mason, there’s no pretense, no expectations. Just raw, unfiltered desire. And perhaps, for the first time, I can truly be free to explore the depths of my longing.
“This is madness.” He lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of reluctance. Finding none, a subtle smile curves his lips before he captures my mouth once more, deeper this time. I meet his fervor with my own, ready to see where this uncharted path leads us.
He breaks the kiss just enough to look at me.
“Look at me,” he demands, and I force my heavy lids open to meet his gaze. The possession I see there makes me tremble. “If this isn’t what you want… If it’s too much—tell me tostop.”
“Don’t stop.” My breath catches, words tangled on my tongue. “Please, don’t stop.”
He studies me, searching for doubt, and I meet him with fire.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a moment longer, ensuring he’s reading me correctly. Seeing the resolve in my eyes, the tension in his shoulders eases. His hand moves to cup my face gently, his thumb brushing against my cheek as he leans in. The space between us disappears, and I surrender completely to the moment, trusting him to lead the way.
“I’m not gentle.” The words come out as a warning, even as his thumb traces my bottom lip with aching tenderness. “Not like this. Not when you make me feel this way, but I can try… You’re injuries…”
“Please don’t be gentle with me. I don’t need gentle,” I whisper, nipping at his thumb, a silent invitation for him to let go, to take what he needs from me. “I need real.”
Something snaps behind his eyes—a primal, feral hunger that sends a shiver down my spine. His voice drops lower, rougher, more intense. His forehead presses against mine, his breath ragged and hot on my skin.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle. I need you to know that.”
“Take what you need. I can handle it.” I look into his eyes, seeing the raw hunger and the underlying concern. I reach up, cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing against his stubble. “I’m strong enough for you.”
His response is instantaneous and overwhelming. His control shatters.
He sets me down, strips me with shaking hands, and rips his shirt over his head. His scars glint in the low light, powerful andbrutal. He shoves his pants down, eyes locked on mine, watching for any sign of fear.
There is none.
Then he’s on me again, lifting me like I weigh nothing. My back hits the wall as my legs wrap instinctively around his hips. The feeling of skin against skin is electric—all heat and need and desperate hunger. His hardness presses against me, drawing a whimper from my throat.
“Last chance,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that resonates in his chest. “Last chance to tell me to stop.”
“Not going to do that.” I meet his gaze steadily, my voice filled with determination and need. I roll my hips against him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against my core, drawing a sound like pain from deep within his chest.
A primal, feral hunger flashes in his eyes, and his control snaps. His teeth find my throat, biting down, marking me as his. His hands grip my thighs hard enough to bruise, a claim of possession that sends a wave of heat through me. With one powerful thrust, he enters me, swallowing my cry of pleasure with a fierce, demanding kiss.
