Page 169 of The Last Guardian

My fingers ached to travel lower. I wanted to discover each corner of him. Touch him, taste his skin, please him.

Zaid pulled back, removing his shirt, as my eyes took in his muscled chest, the dark ink of his tattoo dancing on his sun-kissed skin. I couldn’t look away. I never could.

Stars, he looked like a god sent here for me—just for me.

My fingers traced the muscles, grazing his skin in a gentle stroke. He tensed when my lips met his skin—at his left rib, where the tattoo of a blasting sword transforming into a swirling sun took root.

My lips touched his chest, his arms, his shoulders—kissing each one of his tattoos. The one with sea waves curling into a knot near his left arm, the one with a crescent wave cradling a small sun on his other arm, below a wolf’s head with a serpent dancing around the two tattoos. Another, a line of old script at his collarbone.

My lips pressed where his heart thundered. Uneven, echoing my own.

Slowly, my mouth moved up, tasting each part of his skin with my tongue on his chest, while my finger dragged a lazy path on his low abdomen. I traced his strong jaw with my mouth.

My gaze met his at last, and something in him broke open.

Almost reverently, Zaid cupped my face in his strong hands—as if I were the most precious thing the world had ever given him.

His gaze flickered between my eyes and my lips, as if he were unsure of what deserved his full attention. The adoration, the amazement lingering in his gaze, filled my heart with warmth—love.

His mouth pressed against mine again in a fervent rush, as if I were the air, and only I could breathe life back into him. His lips adored mine, hungry, yearning for more, as his hands explored the contours of my jaw, my neck, tracing my curves as if he wanted to learn me by touch—to imprint me forever in his memory. His fingers slid down to my collarbone, caresses both tender and torturous.

His mouth left mine, leaving light kisses on my jawline, on my throat—chasing away where the ghost of the Dead Nymph’s hand had marked me, leaving only his adoration on my skin.

One of his hands traveled to my ribs, stroking his thumb just below my breast. The other searched for my thigh; his fingers tightened on my soft skin, where the nightgown had rolled up.

My breath caught.

His mouth continued its journey between my throat and collarbone, in warm, soft kisses on my skin. Zaid pressed a gentle kiss on my shoulder, nudging aside the fabric of my robe until it slipped off, pooling at my wrists on the desk.

A shiver ran through me as his teeth grazed the delicate skin of my shoulder, catching the strap of my nightgown between them before sliding it away. His hand followed the motion. Exploring. Slowly. Deliberately. As if memorizing every curve from my ribs to my breast, until his fingers touched my hard nipple through the blue fabric, teasing, rolling it.

My lips parted as I pulled my head back at the sensation of his fingers playing with me. And in a swift movement, his hand lowered the fabric as his hand cupped my breast, stroking my aching nipple, skin against skin.

“Fuck, it feels like you were crafted for my hand,” Zaid purred as the contact of his fingertip on my sensitive nerves sent electric waves through my body.

A moan parted my mouth when his devilish lips took the place of his finger. Sucking, teasing with his tongue, his teeth.

My body burned, shivers of pleasure coursing through me in waves. His other hand moved dangerously up my thigh, where my desire for him pooled, and when his fingers brushed against the lace between my thighs, I gasped.

Our eyes met.

Melting.

His lips left my nipple as he leaned toward me, bringing his face closer to mine. His fingers brushed against the lace again, eliciting another moan. Zaid savored the sound, his eyes darkening as they rested on my parted lips.

Slowly, Zaid slid the lace aside—his fingers caressing the proof of my need for him.

Zaid clicked his tongue, whispering against my lips, “My… look at you. Already soaking.” His finger grazed my entrance as his eyes found mine. “Just for me.”

I couldn’t tell what felt more intimate, his finger brushing against my core or his burning gaze boring into mine.

“Eyes on me, love,” Zaid said against my lips. “I want to see every part of you shatter for me.”

My breath hitched.

His finger slid inside me in a slow, torturous motion, and I let out a soft moan, arching my back. His lips met mine. His finger pushed in slow motions, again and again.

A groan escaped him when I moaned again. He pushed another finger in, filling me with slow, teasing strokes. My fingers curled at the edge of the desk.