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He smiles knowingly, and the sight is devastating. While I’m busy having a mini heart attack, he pulls me in close, wrapping one arm around my waist while his other hand cups the back of my neck. His minty breath fans across my face, caressing my lips like a light breeze in the spring.

“What are you feeling right now?” he asks softly.

My breathing escalates. “Confined.”

“Trapped?” he volleys back. My mouth tightens because while a part of me wants to say yes, the truth is that I don’t.

I feel… safe.

Protected.

Treasured.

“One day, you will realize that you are not trapped in a prison,” he murmurs roughly. “You are in my church where I am your God, and you are my equal. I’m not a jail, little mouse, I am your sanctuary.”

My mouth dries. The tip of my tongue darts out, wetting my bottom lip and swiping across his lips. Just a brush, but enough to light a spark. An answering growl arises as I ask, “Does that make me a goddess?”

He pulls me impossibly closer, his lips now pressed against mine lightly. “Baby, you rule the fucking kingdom, and I will gladly bow to you.”

I let him ensnare my lips between his in a vicious kiss before pulling away, my breath left behind. He goes to recapture them and growls when I evade him once more. Keeping my mouth dangerously close, I whisper against his tongue, “Prove it.”

“Mmm,” he hums, the sound of a beast growling from the depths of darkness. “I do love getting on my knees for you,” he murmurs, nipping at my lips playfully. This time, he’s the one to evade me, instead biting and licking until I’m bristling with need.

He only teases for a few moments before his mouth is crashing on to mine. The inferno in my body escapes from my throat and ignites our connected lips. Without thought, I arch into him, desperate to feel more of him against me.

His lips move over mine with raw hunger. He doesn’t just kiss me. He fucks my mouth with his tongue. Traps my lips between his teeth and bites. Explores every inch of my mouth as he devours me.

And I let him. I let him consume me because I’m beginning to forget what it feels like to be whole without Zade. He’s in every part of me.

I plunge my hands beneath his hoodie, clawing at his stomach and allowing myself to explore a body I’ve explored far too much.

A body I haven’t explored nearly enough.

My fingers drift over his abs, familiarizing myself with the hard divots while he takes over my mouth once more. My nipples scrape against his chest, and I can’t stop the moan that releases from my throat. The sound swirls in our mouths, and he rewards me with a harsh nip to my bottom lip, dragging the sensitive flesh between his teeth before letting it go with a pop.

He rears back and looks down at me, his eyes slowly taking in my naked form. The wet strands of my hair, now darkened to a mocha brown, are snaked all across my chest and the seat beneath me. Tendrils curl across my breasts and around my nipples, a sight his eyes snag on and can’t seem to look away from.

“Your turn,” I whisper. His eyes drift back to mine and hold. He doesn’t look away, even as he lifts up and slides the hoodie over his head, exposing his bare torso.

I suck in a sharp breath, the tattoos covering his corded muscles and the various scars are a sight to fucking behold.

I want to know the story behind those scars. And wanting to know anything past how hard he’s going to make me come is terrifying.

But I’ve always loved that feeling. I’ve always craved more of it.

After some maneuvering, he kicks off his boots and socks and manages to wrangle his wet jeans down his legs. It’s a moment that would usually feel awkward, but with Zade, it only dries my mouth as he exposes his glorious body to me, inch by inch.

Chests pumping in tandem, we look each other over, our eyes thirsty as he settles back between my legs—this time, with nothing between us.

His mismatched eyes pin me against the seat. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.

And that’s the problem. I don’t want to.

I love the way his fiery orbs trace over my body, like a paintbrush tracing the curves of a woman on a canvas. The wetness pooled between my legs is becoming too much—too heavy.

Too painful.

The quick fuck against the tree only took the edge off while simultaneously ramping up our need to toxic levels.