Page 159 of The Violet Raven

“I’ve dreamt of you sayin’ those words for longer than I care to admit,” he rasps, his voice thick with longing.

A mischievous smile tugs at my lips as I lean in, letting my lips brush the sensitive skin just beneath his ear. “So,” I murmur, my breath teasing against his skin, “what do you plan to do about it?” I trail a series of deliberate kisses down to the base of his neck, my lips lingering before I slowly drag my tongue along his skin. The taste of him—rich and heady, like warm scotch and wild heather—floods my senses, leaving me utterly intoxicated.

The reaction is immediate. His body tightens against mine, and he presses into me, his hard length meeting the very centre of my need. The ache inside me deepens, a demand rising in every nerve, pleading for his touch, his attention—his everything.

Finn

The words spark like flint against steel, igniting something deep, raw, and primal inside me.

Her lips graze the sensitive skin just below my ear, featherlight, teasing, and every part of me tenses, sharpens, and locks onto her—attuned to nothing but the heat of her body against mine.

My grip tightens at her waist, fingers pressing into the soft, heated curve of her body, holding her steady—but it’s me who’s coming undone.

Then, her mouth moves lower, tracing slow, deliberate kisses along my throat, her lips parting just enough for me to feel the warm slide of her breath, the wet tease of her tongue.

My willpower frays at the edges, thread by thread.

Her tongue drags over my skin, unhurried, taunting, her breath hot, her touch devastating.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering, the ache of my need coiling tighter, thicker, more unbearable with every passing second.

The taste of her lingers on my tongue, sweet and sinful, a blend of wildness and warmth, of temptation and ruin.

The scent of her—utterly intoxicating, utterly hers—fills every corner of my senses, drowning me in her, pulling me under, leaving me lost.

She’s so close, so completely overwhelming—so perfect.

I have to close my eyes, just for a moment, just to keep from falling apart entirely. If I lose myself now, there will be no turning back.

“Triona.”

Her name leaves me in a rasp, weighted with everything I feel, everything I want, everything I’ll never be able to give to another soul.

Her body moulds to mine, her legs holding steady around my waist as if by muscle memory. My hands grip her tightly, settling her against me as I carry us further into the moment. Her thighs, full and enticingly soft, form a sumptuous barrier of warmth and power that draws me in with irresistible allure.

As my lips trail along her collarbone, tracing the delicate line of her skin, I can feel the rhythmic pounding of her pulse beneath my touch. Every kiss is a vow, a promise I can’t put into words. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’ll ever need.

“I love how your thighs feel,” I whisper, my hand sliding seductively along her exposed flesh. “They’re so deliciously thick. And yer breasts… so full, so soft—they drive me wild.”

When she sighs, “Finn,” the sound is a plea and a command all at once.

I let my arousal, firm and insistent, pulse steadily against her centre. I hold her close enough to feel every beat of my desire, yet deliberately leave a trace of space to test the strength of her will.

“What I love most about yer body…” My voice is a slow, deliberate drawl, thick with intent, each word dripping with sinful promise, “is that ye’re strong—woman enough—made to take everything I’m about to give you… every stroke, every shuddering breath. And I know, deep in my bones, I needna worry whether you can handle it.”

I tilt her chin up, fingers firm, claiming her gaze, refusing to let her look anywhere but at me.

“You can handle it, right, Triona?” My lips brush hers, close enough to taste, never enough to satisfy. “You want to.”

She shudders, her breath catching, her fingers digging into my arms, grasping, pleading.

“Undress me, Finn.”

Her emerald eyes burn with a heat that steals my breath, her body already arching, offering—mine for the taking.

“I want you to see all of me.”

I stare, searching for even a hint of hesitation, but all I find is an unspoken plea—a trust so profound it shakes something loose inside me.