Page 72 of Hunted to Be Mine
“I heal fast.” I caught her hand and brought it to my mouth. “And I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The train swayed, pushing her forward. I steadied her by the waist, and our faces ended up close again. In the dim, her pupils were nearly black.
“We ought to be careful.” Her hands braced on my shoulders.
“That’s not what either of us wants.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t.” I slipped a hand behind her neck and drew her down until our foreheads touched. “But if you’re worried, there’s a fix.”
“What’s that?”
I lay back on the narrow berth and pulled her with me until she settled astride my hips. “You take control.”
Something flickered across her face—surprise, then want. She sat up, her weight settling in a way that cleared my head of everything but her. Even through clothes, the pressure lit me up.
“Lie back.” Her palm went flat on my chest. “Don’t move.”
I raised an eyebrow but obeyed, head on the thin pillow. Surrender wasn’t my terrain. With Selina, it felt right. Necessary.
She unbuttoned her blouse slowly, inch by inch of skin revealed. I wanted to touch. To tear. Her order kept my hands on the mattress. The slow reveal was its own kind of torture.
When she let the blouse fall, a breath punched out of me. The bra was plain, functional—not meant for show—yet her bare shoulders and the curve of her breasts above satin had me aching.
“You’re staring.” Color rose along her chest.
“Can’t help it.” My voice was tight. “You’re beautiful.”
She slid her hands behind her back and unhooked the bra. Straps slid down. She drew it off and I saw her—small, perfect, nipples tightening in the cool air.
“Now who’s staring?” I didn’t bother to hide it.
Her mouth curved as she moved to my belt. “I’m doing more than staring.”
She worked the belt fast, then the button. Each brush of her fingers across my abdomen stoked heat. When she eased the zipper down, relief hit sharp.
I hissed when her hand slid inside and wrapped around me. One stroke. Two. Testing. Confident.
“Christ, Selina.”
She bent and kissed me, her chest bare against mine. She tasted like heat and stubborn control. When she drew back, her eyes were glazed.
“I need you,” she said against my mouth.
I reached up and palmed her breast, rolling her nipple until she arched. A soft sound slipped out of her. “Then take me.”
She sat up and pushed my jeans and boxers down enough to free me. Then she stood on the berth, careful with the sway, to strip off her pants and underwear.
The sight of her—naked above me, skin flushed in the thin strip of light—nearly undid me. Hair loose, lips swollen. Not the polished doctor. Just a woman who wanted. Mine, for now.
She climbed back over me, the slick heat of her pressing along my length. I caught her hips, trying to guide her, but she resisted.
“Not yet.” Her tone was teasing. “I’m in charge, remember?”
A low sound left my throat. I flattened my hands on the mattress. “You’re killing me.”
“Good things come to those who wait.” She rocked, sliding her wet heat along me without taking me in. Slow torture.
