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To the mother of all Gods, what was this cruel torture? She was going to be the ruin of him.

“I think it is pretty clear that all I want to do is play.” He let a charming smile cross his face as he looked down at the massive erection bulging from his leathers. Her gaze followed. Her eyes flashed to his. The most endearing blush finally flared in her cheeks, and he had to stop himself from saying something ridiculously crude. “I think it’s pretty clear that I have never wanted to play so much in my entire existence.”

She swallowed, and he watched it track in her throat. “Would it not be foolish of me to say those two little words?”

Kiss me.

He severed the distance between them in one final stride. “Then let’s be foolish.”

Only their uneven breathing could be heard before she spoke again.

“I don’t know if I would be enough for you.” Something in her voice broke, sending his heart into a frantic rhythm.

His jaw clenched. “Then you are blind not to see what I do.”

Emara looked up at him with magic swirling in her eyes, brilliant and bright. She put a hand onto his bare skin, on his sternum. She hadn’t even touched him below the waist and he felt like he could explode.

“Would it be only me?” she asked with a shy glint in her eye.

Her question rocked him. Was she actually considering it? Did she think there were others?

“Yes.” Of course. “It would be only you.”

The truth rocked him even more.

“Are we still playing?” she asked as her hand pressed into his skin.

In a way, her question was completely innocent enough to break him, but he saw the dark desire in her eyes, and he knew that if she wasn’t ready, he wouldn’t take this any further. But she wouldn’t be doing this…

“I was never playing,” he answered her.

She looked up at him through beautiful lashes that accentuated her eyes.

Was she ready to say the words?

His heart pummelled into his ribcage like he pounded into a punching bag. He ran a hand over her skin and curled his hand behind her neck. She shuddered under his touch.

She came back fighting and ran her hand down to the trail of hair that lingered just above his leather waistband.

It was maddening torture.

She was winning.

She turned, her back brushing his torso, and pushed her backside into him. Grazing his hardness with her ass, she tipped her head back and arched into him.

Fuck it. She had won.

“You win,” he breathed, still not laying a hand on her. “You win, just let me kiss you before I lose my fucking mind.”

She threw a look over her shoulder, her hair tickling his bare chest, and her lips parted.

There was a knock on the door, and the sound of Artem Stryker’s voice broke through the thick, charged atmosphere. “Torin?” He knocked again. “My man, are you in there?”

“Disappear, Stryker,” he roared without taking his eyes from hers. Her shoulders stiffened as she looked at the door, but she didn’t move her body from where it pushed into his.

“Magin has used all the water in our room. Can I use yours? Emara wouldn’t mind, would she?”

Torin was going to kill Stryker for this. He was going to peel the skin from his bones. “You better leave now if you want to keep your heart in your chest.”