Page 102 of Ravage God

I moved my hand up and traced my fingers over his face, taking in his features. A strong nose, hard jawline, full lips…

And his hair.

God, his hair. I was completely obsessed with it. A few of the longer strands had fallen to his forehead.

So beautiful.

It wasn’t fair. No man should ever be this beautiful, but he was. It was no wonder Chiara wanted him.

They all wanted him.

But they couldn’t have him because he was mine.

I shook my head over my own thoughts. I was now sounding just as possessive as Elio did most of the time.

I smiled a little and moved my finger down to his lip. It surprised me when he opened his mouth and sucked my finger inside.

I gasped just as he opened his eyes, the sleep still in them.

He grinned at me as he sucked on my finger, and I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud.

“When did you wake up?” I managed to ask.

“Same time you did,” he answered around my finger.

Oh. God.

I moved a little closer to him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I let out a small sigh. If only there were a way for me to always stay this close to him.

Finally, he let go of my finger.

I was still reeling over the sensation.

“Won’t you kiss me?” I asked.

His eyes darkened at my request, his pupils dilating as he studied my face. But he didn’t move like I expected him to. “Did you have a nightmare?”

I looked down at his chest, my fingers moving over his bare skin. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Hey, it does to me.”

I shrugged.

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

“Of you dying.”

His eyes widened marginally at my words before he pushed my hand flat against his chest. I could feel the steady strum of his heartbeat against my palm.

“I’m right here,” he said. “Do you feel that? Feel me? I’m right here.”

I nodded. He was right here with me.

I looked up and asked for a kiss again.

Something shifted in Elio’s expression, and that careful control he always maintained broke just enough for me to see the hunger beneath. Without another word, he closed the distance between us, his lips capturing mine in a slow, gentle kiss that quickly grew when I hummed against his lips.

I melted against him when he deepened the kiss, my body molding to his as if it had been designed for this purpose alone. His hand slid up my back, fingers tangling in my hair. The stubble on his jaw scratched pleasantly against my skin, a reminder of his raw masculinity. I pressed myself closer to him as a soft whimper escaped my lips.