Lucias sets me down on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees between my legs. I have to part them to accommodate his wide frame.
“I told myself I didn’t care. I was going to take what you offered but…” He reaches out, running his thumb across my cheek, then drops his hand. He looks a little unsure of himself. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before. In all the times he’s come into the clinic, even when I shot his date request down, he’d still just smile at me and nod, then do it all over again the next week.
“Tell me you aren’t just doing this because I saved your brother’s ass and got him out of town. Tell me you want this.”
“I want this.” The words come easily because they’re true. I’ve been fighting this for months now. Scared that this man could hurt me, not because of his lifestyle, but because of my heart. I’d put a label on him and judged. And I loved that he had no problems proving me wrong and knocking down each wall I’d put up between us.
I just can’t see how we could fit together, and maybe we won’t past tonight, but I’m taking this.
He pulls me from the bed, sliding me into his lap and making me straddle him. His mouth takes mine, and the kiss is soft and sweet as his tongue slips past my lips. It’s not what I was expecting to get from him when he pulled me from the bed like he needed me on him that instant. But the tension I feel in his body tells me that he’s holding back, and I don’t want him to.
I use one hand to grip his shirt and pull him closer, wanting no space between us. There’s been months of space between us, and I don’t want even a sliver of it there now. My other hand goes to his hair as I wiggle against him, deepening the kiss, pushing myself into him. I feel the ridge of his cock against me, and I start to move on it.
Lucias growls into my mouth as he picks me up and my back hits the bed. He comes over me, never breaking contact with my lips. I wrap my legs around him, wanting the delicious feeling of him against me.
“Fuck. Slow down, slow down,” Lucias pleads, pulling his mouth from mine and burying his face in my neck. I know he’s talking to himself, and I feel a feminine power come over me at the knowledge that I’m able to put this man on edge. I barely know what I’m doing here and he seems like he’s about to lose it. I pull at his shirt, wanting to be skin to skin, needing the contact more than my next breath.
I don’t know why he wants to slow down. I want this. Now. This has been building for months, and it’s all crashing down on me.
“Lucias, please,” I beg. Oh, how the tables have turned in the past twenty-four hours. I’ve gone from wanting to be nowhere near him to not wanting any space between us.
He grabs my hands, which were trying to rip the shirt from his body, and pins them above my head.
“Baby, you have to give me a second.”
“Frak, Lucias, we’ve had months.” I can hear the pout in my own voice, a voice coated with need.
He drops his forehead to mine, taking a few deep breaths. “How does everything that comes out of your mouth sound so fucking cute and sexy at the same time?”
I lick my lips and wiggle against him, making him do that growl thing again. I didn’t even know a man could make that kind of noise.
“I’m on edge, baby. When I got back here I was still a little hyped up, then I saw you laughing with Scribe, which made me jealous as fuck. I wanted to drag him from the room and beat the shit out of him because he made you laugh. He’s my brother and I wanted to lay him out. I didn’t give a shit.”
He lets out a ragged breath and keeps going.
“Then you’re saying shit like ‘For the Horde’ and ‘frak.’ I don’t even know what that hell it means and it’s getting me harder.”
My breath catches.
“I get you up in my room and you’re finally saying what I’ve been wanting you to say for fucking months. Months! Dreaming of this, wanting this, walking around with a hard-on I can’t seem to get to go down no matter how many times I take myself in hand. But I keep trying because it’s the only option I’ve got. Because if it isn’t you, it’s no one. I knew that from the moment I saw you.”
He wants me to calm down and go slow, but that isn’t going to help. It’s only making things worse. The more he keeps talking, the more I want him. The more I fall over the edge for him.
“And those fucking glasses. You kill me with those. I’ve been picturing you in nothing but those glasses and one of those messy hair buns you do on the top of your head, laid out on my bed. Me pulling your hair free as I slide my cock in and out of you, making love to you.”