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A furrow appears between his brows as he appears to contemplate this. “And why would I need to open my mouth?”

A laugh bubbles up my throat. “Well, believe it or not, Tarzan, it’s so I can shove my tonguein—”

I don’t finish.

Because his mouth is suddenly on mine, stealing the rest of my words along with my breath. And holy fucking hell, it’s like being hit by a tsunami. One moment I’m on solid ground, the next I’m drowning in pure sensation.

There’s nothing gentle about his kiss. He’s demanding, hungry, feasting on me like a starved man. He roughly yanks me to the edge of the counter, forces my legs wider apart, and then his hand fists in my hair, angling my head and holding me still while he devours me.

This isn’t a kiss—it’s a reckoning.

I try to keep up, to match his pace, but it’s like trying to wrestle a storm. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into my thigh. Every nerve ending ignites under his touch and an ache flares between my legs.

His tongue teases mine then he sucks on me. I moan, a desperate sound that he swallows down like sustenance. And then I feel the sharp edge of his teeth, and my body arches into him.

No doubt satisfied by my response, he does it again. And again.

In moments I’m hanging onto his nape, lifting my hips off the counter in a shameless plea for more, my control completely fractured by a single kiss. I didn’t know Ilikedthis—this rough, primal handling.

He pulls back just enough for me to catch a ragged breath before diving back in, deep and hungry, each kiss pulling me further under.

Of course, Cade would kiss like this: Savage, ruthless, and designed to torch every restraint.

His mouth trails hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, his stubble scraping deliciously against my skin. One flick of his wrist against my nape tilts my head back, exposing my throat to him. He finds a sweet spot and alternates between teasing bites and soothing licks until I’m incoherent. The ache between my legs transforms into full-on clenching, begging for relief.

My nails sink deep into his shoulder, wrenching a growl from him, the sound, a delicious vibration against my neck.

When he lifts his head, his eyes are black, pupils swallowing the green irises, and a flush stains his cheekbones. For the first time, the ever-controlled Cade looks . . . undone.

“Like that, princess?”

I try to remember how speech works. “Like that. I need, uh . . .” My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and his gaze tracks the movement like a predator. Then he’s swooping down and reclaiming my mouth. This time he slows down, his tongue exploring me with a thoroughness that makes me whimper.

“Cade,” I breathe, that single word laced with desperation.

“Go on,” he murmurs against my skin. “Show me what you want.”

His words short-circuit my brain. My thighs are already spreading before I can fully process what he said. His lips settle on mine again as his fingers slide up my thigh, stopping just shy of the place I want him.

Then the callused pad of his thumb strokes the edge of my panties sliding along that sensitive crease between my thigh and labia, making my breath hitch in anticipation.

He breaks the kiss to chuckle wickedly in my ear. “Fuck, princess, you’re dripping everywhere.”

I can only moan as my whole body hovers on a precipice. Begging.

He makes me wait. One heartbeat. Two. And then he rips the crotch of my panties and slides one long, thick finger deep inside me.

“Ah—!”

Cade’s mouth covers mine, capturing the cry spilling out of me. He starts to thrust his finger deep and slow, ending with a deliberate grind of his palm against my clit. It takes an embarrassingly few strokes of a single finger to get me hurtling toward climax—not that I’m in any condition to care.

Still with that maddeningly slow pace, Cade changes the angle of his thrusts and curls his finger to press against the front of my walls. Goosebumps rise along my skin, and my thighs tremble. I’m primed, reaching, straining as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

The moment his thumb glides over my swollen clit, my walls clamp down on his thrusting finger. Hard.

I tear my mouth away as pleasure crests with brutal intensity. My palm slams against the marble counter as my head falls back and I cry out, shuddering. “Oh my . . . God, Cade! I’m going to—!”

An answering noise splits the air—part roar, part snarl, reverberating through the house like thunder. I flinch at the sound, even as my body ripples on the brink of climax.