Page 187 of Scarlet Wars
I moaned against him, and he took full advantage, forcing my lips apart, and plunging inside.
His tongue swept through my mouth like he was starving, tasting every corner, every inch like he had a right to it, like he owned it.
I whimpered, and it only made him hungrier.
He kissed me deeper—rougher—like he was trying to crawl inside me, to brand me from the inside out. His hand on my throat tightened slightly.
My hands flew into his hair, dragging through the dark strands, clutching him like I couldn’t bear the thought of air between us.
He pressed his hips into mine, and gods, I felt him. Hard. Straining against his pants. The thick length of him grinding into me with absolutely no shame.
“Caden—” I gasped again, barely finding air, my fists now tangled in his shirt, dragging him closer even though there was no space left between us.
“No more waiting,” he growled against my mouth, all wrecked. “No more fucking pretending.”
His hands turned rough; one yanking my head back to expose my throat, the other grabbed my thighs, and lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing.
Carrying me to his bed, my back barely hit the mattress before he was on me again, eyes black, body caged over mine.
My hands ripped at his shirt, fists curling into the fabric before tearing it open, the buttons flying somewhere I didn’t care to look.
I dragged the ruined material down his arms until he was bare above me, heat radiating off every inch of his sculpted chest.
I froze, only for a second, staring up at him like I’d never seen him before.
Because I hadn’t. Not like this.
He looked ruined. Beautiful. Wild.Unleashed.
And all of it, forme.
I ran my hands over the planes of his chest, fingertips grazing every scar, every hard line of muscle, while his hands slid down my sides, mapping the shape of me like he was learning every curve.
He kissed the corner of my mouth, slowly, like he was savoring the moment, then my jaw, his lips trailing fire down my neck. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, his voice low, edged with dangerous certainty.
My every nerve lit was with anticipation and a soft moan slipped from me before I could stop it. “I want nothing but you,” I breathed. “Break me open, burn me down, make me yours until there’s nothing left but us.”
His gaze locked onto mine, dark and blazing, all the things raw and possessive flickering beneath the surface. It wasn’t just desire, it was aclaim.
And then, without breaking eye contact, his hand fisted in my shirt.
The sound of fabric tearing split the air as he ripped it straight down the middle.
It hit the floor in a forgotten heap.
I wasn’t wearing a bra, my breasts were instantly exposed, nipples tight from anticipation, from the brush of cool air and his scorching gaze.
He growled softly under his breath, like he’d been starving and was finally facing the meal he’d been denied.
My pants followed, his hands dragging them down with aching slowness, his fingers brushing against my thighs, my hips, my calves as he undressed me piece by piece. My panties went with them, soaked, clinging.Gone.
And then I was naked on his bed, chest rising and falling, skin flushed, while he stood above me, breathing hard.
His eyes flared before his gaze traveled down my body, lingering on every curve, every dip, like he was memorizing each inch of exposed skin. When it landed on my breasts, his lips parted slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Emma,” he hissed my name, rough with desire. “You’re a fucking goddess.”
I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to touch him. My hands instinctively moved to undo his pants, but before I could go any further, he grabbed both my wrists.
