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He’s watching me like I’m his last meal.

Without giving myself a second to second-guess it, I move.

One step forward is all it takes to close the distance—and then I’m pressing into him, my palms flat against warm, sun-kissed skin that flexes under my touch.

He’s so solid, so real, and everything inside me softens and tightens at once.

Zeke growls. An honest-to-God, deep-in-his-chest growl that feels like it shakes the air around us.

His hands land on my waist, firm and possessive, like he needs to hold me or he might combust.

I tilt my face up toward his, breath shaky.

“I’m not trying to be impulsive,” I whisper. “But I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

His eyes darken, the purple hue flickering like candlelight behind blue flame.

“You don’t have to pretend, Petals. Not with me.”

Then his mouth is on mine.

And everything else falls away.

The kiss is hard and hungry, but there’s worship in it too.

A kind of desperate reverence, like he’s memorizing my taste.

His tongue brushes mine and I moan, shameless and soft, curling my fingers into his back.

When we break apart, I’m breathless, dizzy.

Floating.

“Dinner isn’t for a while,” I manage, voice thin with need.

“Is that so?” His voice is like smoke and sex and heat.

“Uh huh.”

He cocks his head. “You asking me something, Petals?”

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to spend some time alone. With me.”

His gaze rakes over me, full of barely restrained hunger.

I feel like prey and treasure all at once.

Wanted. Claimed. Desired so fiercely I tremble.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, like he needs to hear me say it.

“Yes, Zeke. I want to spend some time alone with you.”

His grin is feral. “Then let’s not waste another damn second.”

And just like that, the last of my defenses crumbles.

Because I know—I know—this man will ruin me for anyone else.