Page 150 of Watch Me Burn
“If you come upstairs with me, I’m not letting you out of that bed until morning.” His breath warms my ear. “I’ve never made love to a woman, Luna. All I’ve ever done is fuck. Will you be my first?”
I nod, skimming my nose along the line of his jaw, and whisper my consent. He carries me upstairs to his bedroom, his hands gripping the bare flesh of my ass. I study his profile in the low hallway light. He’s so beautiful, with his sharp jaw covered in just the lightest stubble, the lines around his eyes, and his gray temples. And I know in this moment that I want to look at this man for the rest of my life.
Late afternoon sunlight filters through the thick leaded glass windows as we step into his bedroom. A fire crackles in a stone hearth, its surrounding tile work restored, showcasing the mansion’s Victorian heritage. In stark contrast to his sleek Denver penthouse, the room is filled with dark walls, glowing sconces, and heavy wooden furniture, making it feel intimate despite its generous size. The room breathes history while embracing the contemporary, its original architectural details marrying with modern luxury, creating something both timeless and lived-in. And it matches the man carrying me. Solid, uncompromising, and touched with barely contained wildness.
By the time he reaches the massive four-poster bed that dominates the space, his pants have slipped to his ankles. We barely make it without him tripping, and I laugh against his skin where my tongue traces the pulse point at his throat.
His grip loosens as he sets me on the floor, and for a suspended moment we just stand there, looking at each other. Candlelight flickers from every surface, flames dancing on the bedside tables and dresser, illuminating his face in gold and shadow. I quirk an eyebrow at him.
“That seems like a fire hazard. Pretty sure of the outcome today, huh?”
“Call it confidence in my powers of persuasion.” His smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth as he nudges the fabric pooled around his ankles, stepping free.
His unwavering faith in us, in me coming back to him, makes my throat tighten. He lit these candles knowing—not hoping, but knowing—that I’d be here with him tonight. The arrogance of it should rankle and trigger my instinct to rebel against anyone who thinks they know my choices before I make them. Instead, warmth spreads through me, dissolving the last walls I’d built around my heart.
My fingers tremble as I reach up to trace the line of his jaw. “I’ve wanted to touch your face so bad. When you wore that mask, I could never—”
“I know.” His voice rasps with emotion as his hand covers mine, holding it to his cheek. “Now you can. Anytime you want.”
His lips meet mine in a gentle kiss, nothing like the claiming ones before, and it steals my ability to think. His hands cradle my face, his fingers tracing my cheekbones, careful of my bruises, until tremors roll through my limbs. My body surrenders without thought, muscles melting into his warmth while my mind reels from this contradiction, my heart struggling to reconcile this gentleness with the brutality I’ve known.
“I need you.” The plea breathes out between kisses. “All of you.”
He pulls back, and the tension melts from the corners of his eyes while hunger deepens in their depths. He reaches for his shirt, fingers working at the first button, but I catch his wrists in my hands.
“Let me.”
He drops his arms to his sides. My hands take their time as I release each button, savoring the gradual revelation of his skin, the heat radiating from him as I push the fabric aside, exposing the intricate wolf inked on his chest. The shirt slides from his shoulders, dropping forgotten at our feet.
His hands find my hips, caressing me wherever they can reach, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. Being naked in front of this man is as natural as breathing now. The firelight reflects in his dark eyes as he studies me without metal between us.
“You’re beautiful.” Wonder softens his tone. My cheeks warm at the raw devotion I hear. “So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”
“So are you.”
My eyes drink him in, memorizing every inch of his exposed skin. My fingers trace the detailed tattoos, the wolf standing defiant in the midst of hell, so fitting and profoundly meaningful now that I know the secrets of his past.
He holds his arms out to his sides. “Every inch of my body is yours, Luna. See me. Touch me. Claim me.”
My eyes begin their true exploration in the light. The scattered scars tell stories he hasn’t shared. The tension across his shoulders speaks of burdens carried alone. And the slight tremor in his hands when he touches me, as if he still can’t believe I’m here, choosing this.
Choosing him.
He pulls me against him, skin against skin, and his shudder vibrates through my bones.
“I’ve dreamed of this.” His lips brush against my collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth. “Of holding you like this. Of you still wanting me even after knowing everything I’ve done.”
“I do want you.” My fingers thread through his dark hair. “I want Damien, and I want my wolf. I want all the parts you’ve kept hidden.”
He lays me back on cool sheets that quickly warm beneath us, his touch reverent where it once was possessive. His hands glide along my skin, rediscoveringevery curve. When he settles over me, I gasp as the weight of him presses me into the mattress, solid and real.
“I can’t promise to be gentle.” His thumbs trace circles on my hipbones, contradicting every word with their tender touch.
“Your gentleness and your brutality both live in these hands.” My palms cover his, pressing them deeper into my skin. “Give me the man who treasures me and the one who devours me. They’re both mine now.”
His mouth begins a slow journey across my skin, and my pulse jumps beneath his lips.
He takes his time exploring me, his mouth leaving a trail of heat along my throat, shoulders, and the valley between my breasts. Each touch ignites tiny flames beneath my skin. My nipples pucker, aching for his mouth, and when his lips wrap around one sensitive peak, I arch against him, a soft moan escaping me.
