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Us.

My hands slide up the firm plane of his chest, palms memorizing the ridges of muscle and the wild thump of his heart.

“I pick you,” I whisper. “Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. Hell, for all my tomorrows, I pick you.”

And then I kiss him.

At first, he doesn’t move. Just lets me take the lead. Maybe because he's stunned, or maybe because he’s afraid to hope.

But when he does respond?

He devours me.

One powerful arm wraps around my back and hauls me against him, and then his mouth is crushing mine in a kiss so hungry it borders on desperate.

The kind of kiss that says I thought I’d lost you. I never want to feel that again.

Our lips part with a gasp, then reconnect. My hands dive into his thick golden hair as he licks into my mouth like a man starved, tasting me, claiming me.

My body sizzles to life.

Every inch of me burns.

Maybe it’s the fear.

Maybe it’s the relief.

Maybe it’s the way our bond is singing like a live wire beneath my skin.

But I’ve never wanted anything like I want this. Him.

I grind my hips against him, and the friction makes him growl deep in his chest. A low, dangerous sound that makes me even wetter.

“Fuck. So good. You taste like mine,” he rasps against my lips, biting lightly at my bottom one. “Like fire and flowers and fucking heaven.”

“Kian, I want you to claim me,” I breathe, sliding my hands down to tug at the hem of his shirt. “Again.”

The next few moments are nothing but a blur of needy touches and ripped clothing.

“Yeah? Fuck. yes, I’ll claim you as many times as it takes. As many times as you want,” he grunts.

Shirts are flung somewhere behind the couch. My jeans are peeled down in a frenzied rush, and his sweatpants vanish with them, leaving us skin to skin, chest to chest.

Nothing between us but heat.

His eyes roam over my body like it’s the first time he’s seen me.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans, hands roaming reverently over my waist, my belly, the soft flare of my hips.

“I’m chunky,” I tease, though the insecurity still flickers behind my voice.

He stills.

Then grips my hips tighter, dragging me against his cock in a slow, torturous grind that makes me cry out.

“Chunky?” His eyes glow, his Bull close to the surface now. “Woman, you’re a goddess. Soft, sensuous, made for me. All this?” His hands squeeze my ass, pulling me flush against him. “This is what I need. What I crave. What I’d kill for.”

“Then take me,” I whisper, rocking my hips again. “Please.”