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When I reach the ridged scar near his ribs—a souvenir from his darker days—I pause to trace it with my tongue. He shivers, hands tightening on my hips.

“Eve.” There’s a warning in his voice that makes heat pool low in my belly.

I smile against his skin. “Yes?”

Instead of answering, he threads his fingers through my hair, neither pushing nor pulling—just maintaining contact. The gesture is possessive yet gentle, perfectly encapsulating the man himself.

Continuing my downward path, I take my time exploring the planes of his abs with lips and tongue. Each kiss is deliberately placed, marking territory that’s already mine. When I reach the cut of his hip, I bite down gently, making him hiss.

“Minx.”

I glance up through my lashes, finding his dark eyes fixed on me with burning intensity. “Problem?”

“Just wondering if I need to remind you who’s in charge here.”

The threat sends a shiver down my spine, but I maintain my teasing. “Oh? And who would that be?”

His grip in my hair tightens fractionally. “You know exactly who, little girl.”

The familiar endearment makes me clench with renewed arousal, but I’m not ready to give up control just yet. Instead, I wrap my hand around his cock, already hard again.

“Seems like you’re at my mercy right now.”

A dangerous smile curves his lips. “For now.”

The warning in his tone promises delicious retribution later, but I focus on my current task. Maintaining eye contact, I lean down to lick a stripe up his length.

His sharp intake of breath is incredibly satisfying. I do it again, slower this time, savoring the taste of him. When I reach the head, I swirl my tongue around it before taking him deeper.

“Fuck.” The word escapes him on a groan. “That mouth.”

I hum in acknowledgment, knowing the vibration will send him over the edge. His hips twitch but he maintains iron control, letting me set the pace.

Gradually, I take him deeper, relaxing my throat to accommodate his size. Practice has taught me exactly how he likes to be touched—the right amount of pressure, when to use my tongue, how to hollow my cheeks just so.

His breathing grows ragged as I work him over, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick, shallow ones. When I feel him start to tense, I pull back to focus on the sensitive head while my hand works the shaft.

“Close,” he warns, tugging my hair. “Either stop now or—”

I cut him off by taking him deep again, making my intentions clear. His cursing becomes creative and multilingual as I increase my pace.

When he finally comes, it’s with a groan of my name. I swallow everything he gives me, continuing to suck gently until he tugs me away.

“C’mere.” He pulls me up his body, crushing his mouth to mine in a searing kiss. I know he can taste himself on my tongue and the thought makes me moan. “Ready for breakfast?”

I smile up at him. “I could eat.”

He reaches for the room phone to order, and I take the opportunity to admire him. The morning sun highlights the silver in his dark hair, the laugh lines around his eyes, the various scars that tell the story of his life.

Sometimes it still amazes me that this man—this powerful, dangerous, utterly devoted man—is mine. That we found each other despite all odds, that love won out over fear and duty.

“What?” he asks, catching me staring after he hangs up.

“Nothing.” I smile, grateful for this moment. “Just happy.”

His expression softens with understanding. Setting the phone aside, he pulls me close again.

“Me too, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “Me too.”