Page 71 of Wicked Bonds

And he was offering her a glimpse of his prowess now. A taste. A distraction. A way to ground herself and feel normal again.

She wasn’t about to turn him down. No, she intended to embrace him fully, to see what he had in store for her, and let him be in charge while she settled her mind.

Her bare feet whispered across the carpet as she moved backward toward the bed, her gaze holding his with each step. It was an intimate dance filled with a familiarity she didn’t understand. Because she knew exactly where the mattress was without looking.

Yes, she’d already seen it.

But this was somehow more than a visual understanding of the room’s layout. This was an intrinsic movement, one her body knew by memory despite the missing pieces in her mind.

Balthazar’s hungry gaze told her not to worry about it, to focus on the present, to indulge in this mutual lust and nothing else.

It helped settle her fluttering pulse, gave her one focal point for her attention, and allowed her tobreathe.

Yes. More of this,she thought as she slid back onto the bed.More intensity. More heat. More Balthazar.

He hadn’t removed the lace from his mouth, his brown eyes darkening with each passing second until the orbs reminded her of black coffee.

She wanted a drink.

One doused in the sweetness that was all B’s tongue.

And spiced by the flavor of his intoxicating touch.

She positioned herself in the middle of the bed, her hair fanning out around her on the pillows. It was a seductive pose she knew well, one she highlighted by drawing her knees upward and spreading her thighs in blatant invitation.

Balthazar’s gaze continued to hold hers rather than roam down to the prize waiting for him. He wasn’t the kind of man to rush it, which made this all the more enticing. Because he knew when and how to draw out a moment, as he did now by just watching her with her panties in his mouth.

She knew he was tasting her on the lace.

His tongue gently stroking the bits clamped between his teeth, warming up for the meal to come.

And damn if that thought didn’t almost make her come.

He was passion personified. A god in the bedroom.A god about to claim his goddess, she mused. Because he wasn’t the only one skilled at this game.

Her fingertips brushed her sides as she slowly traced her own form up to her breasts and the buttons of the shirt covering them.

He hadn’t said to remove it.

But he hadn’t said she couldn’t either.

The top button unfastened with a nimble flick, drawing his gaze down to her chest. She undid the second and the third one, his eyes on her the entire time. No comments. No movement aside from the slight shift in his focus. They were both barely even breathing.

Button number four slipped free from the fabric.

Followed by the fifth.

The shirt parted along the way, revealing her creamy skin while continuing to hide the sensual bits from his view.

At least until she reached the final button.

That one, coupled with her splayed thighs, ensured he would see every bit of her arousal.

He admired the view now, his nostrils flaring at the sight. She instinctively knew what he would want next and obliged him by slipping her fingers through the wetness of her folds, tracing the lines she longed for him to lick.

She was very ready for him, and she showed him that with a few soft caresses. A moan parted her lips, the sound another form of an invitation underlined withneed—which she allowed him to see in her eyes as well.

He took in the sight of her ready form, his irises glittering in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. He resembled an incubus with his thick brown hair perfectly mussed and those gray sweatpants slung low on his muscular hips. She wanted to explore every inch of his sculpted torso with her tongue.