Page 50 of Nansar
She tasted like starlight and salvation, sweet and perfect and mine. When she whimpered into my mouth, that small, needy sound sent liquid fire racing through my veins.
Then her scent hit me—the unmistakable perfume of her arousal, delicate at first but growing stronger with each passing second. Sweet and musky and uniquely Chloe. My entire body went taut as a bowstring, every nerve ending suddenly, acutely aware of her softness pressed against me.
I tore my mouth from hers, breathing hard, and stared down at her flushed face. "Chloe..."
She gazed up at me through lowered lashes, her cheeks beautifully pink, her lips kiss-swollen and glistening. Then, impossibly, a smile curved that tempting mouth—shy and sultry all at once.
"That was really hot, you know," she said, her voice breathy and low.
I blinked, my lust-fogged brain struggling to process her words. "What was?"
"The whole..." She gestured vaguely between us, a flush creeping down her neck. "The whole 'she's mine' thing." Her smile widened, becoming almost bashful even as heat blazed in her eyes. "I know I should probably be more independent or whatever, but watching you claim me like that? Protecting me from them?" She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "It did things to me, Nansar."
A rumble started deep in my chest—half growl, half purr of pure masculine satisfaction. "Things?"
"Yeah." Her hands slid up my chest, fingers tracing the ridges there with maddening slowness. "Hot things."
"Chloe," I growled, my voice dropping to a register I barely recognized. My hands tightened on her waist, claws pricking gently through the fabric of her clothing. "I can scent your need. Do you... do you want this? Want me?"
Her eyes darkened to the deep gray of storm clouds, pupils blown wide with desire as she looked up at me. She worried her lip again, and I watched a kaleidoscope of emotions flicker across her expressive face—want and uncertainty and something that looked almost like awe.
"I..." She started, then faltered, her fingers curling tighter in my vest as if anchoring herself. "Nansar, I haven't felt like this in so long. Not since before..." Her voice cracked, and I watched her throat work as she swallowed hard. "Not since before Declan took me."
My chest constricted painfully at her words, rage and tenderness warring inside me. Rage at what had been stolen from her. Tenderness for the courage it took to speak those words aloud. I wanted her more than air, more than life itself. But it had to be her choice. It would always be her choice.
"The drugs they gave me," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, each word clearly costing her, "they made my body respond, but it wasn't real. It wasn't... it wasn't me. Just chemicals forcing reactions I didn't want, couldn't control." Her eyes met mine, and I saw tears gathering at the corners, making them shimmer like jewels. "But this? Right now? This is me, Nansar. This is real. I want this. I want you."
The fury that surged through me was primal, volcanic—a rage so fierce it threatened to consume me whole. That he had violated her in such a way, stolen even the sanctity of her own desire and twisted it into something false and forced, something that belonged to him instead of her—
"Never again," I vowed, and the words came from somewhere deep and ancient within me, a place where oathswere binding and sacred. My voice was low, fervent, trembling with the weight of my promise. "No one will ever touch you against your will again. What happens between us will always be your choice, Chloe. Always."
A single tear traced a silver path down her cheek, but her lips curved into a smile that made my heart stutter in my chest.
"That was..." she breathed, her fingers still clutching my vest like a lifeline. "That was really sexy, the way you stood up to those guys and claimed me as yours."
I cupped her face gently, reverently, my thumbs brushing away the dampness on her cheeks. Her skin was so soft, so warm beneath my touch. "I meant every word. You're mine to protect, Chloe. No one else will ever lay a hand on you."
Her breath hitched, a small, sharp sound that sent heat pooling low in my belly. Then she was pulling me down to her again, our lips meeting in a kiss that was deeper this time, more urgent, more desperate. I could taste the salt of her tears mixed with something sweeter—hope, maybe, or trust, or the beginning of something neither of us had a name for yet.
Her hands slid up my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my vest as she pressed closer, and I felt the soft curves of her body align with the hard planes of mine. Perfect. She fit against me perfectly, like she'd been made for this, for me.
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, both trembling, I caught it again—that unmistakable scent, richer and deeper than before. Her arousal, genuine and unforced, filled my senses and made my blood run hot, made every nerve ending in my body come alive with want.
"Chloe," I said, and my voice came out raspy, rough with need. "What do you want? Tell me."
She bit her lip, and I watched uncertainty flicker across her beautiful face like shadows on water. "I... I don't know. Iwant you, but I don't think I'm ready for... for everything. Not yet."
"That's okay," I assured her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth. "We go at your pace. Always." I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, to let her see the truth in mine. "But would you let me give you pleasure? Let me show you what it feels like when someone worships your body the way you deserve?"
Her eyes widened, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of color remained. I watched her throat work as she swallowed, watched the rapid flutter of her pulse at the base of her neck. For a moment, I thought she might refuse, might pull away, and I braced myself to accept that choice with grace.
But then she nodded, and when she spoke, her voice was trembling but certain, brave and beautiful and mine.
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, please."
I moved with deliberate slowness, cataloging every flicker of emotion that crossed her face—anticipation, nervousness, desire. When I saw no hesitation, only trust shining in those expressive eyes, I slipped one arm beneath her knees, the other cradling her back, and lifted her against my chest as though she weighed nothing at all.
She gasped, a soft sound of surprise that made my heart clench, her arms instinctively circling my neck.
