Chapter 2

Faye's POV

His mouth was warm. For a half-second he went still—surprised—and then his hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me flush against him as he kissed me back fiercely.

A tear slipped down my cheek. He caught it with his thumb and didn't stop.

His tongue swept into my mouth without hesitation, sliding against mine in a wet, urgent rhythm. He kissed deep, sucking at my tongue, then biting softly at my lower lip before plunging back in.

His other hand settled on my hip, steady and warm. The heat of his mouth, the slick sound of our tongues tangling—it was messy, breathless, and I felt my pulse hammering everywhere.

When I tried to pull away to remind myself this was revenge, not want — His hand kept me right there. Not rough. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world and I was the one in a hurry.

"Upstairs," he said against my mouth, low enough that only I heard it.

I bit my lip, considering it. In place of the pain, there was a throbbing, pleasurable ache pooling between my legs. I felt better than I had imagined, and I took his hand.

"Lead the way."

The elevator doors opened. He walked me backward into it without breaking the kiss, one arm bracing the door. The second the doors closed, he pressed me against the mirrored wall and kissed the side of my neck — slow, open-mouthed, teeth grazing the skin just below my ear.

My head tipped back against the glass. His thigh slid between mine, and I gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer. He made a low sound against my throat that vibrated through my whole body.

"You smell incredible," he murmured against my jaw. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

No one had. Not once in three years.

His hand slid to my thigh and hitched my leg around his hip, and the new angle made everything sharper — his body against mine, hard where I was soft. I could feel exactly how much he wanted me, and the honesty of it made something crack open in my chest.

The elevator chimed. He swiped a keycard without looking, lifted me against his chest, and carried me down a hallway that smelled like marble and money. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed his neck, tasting salt.

The suite door clicked shut. The Grand Meridian — the most expensive hotel in the northern territory. Three years married to Aiden, and I'd never stayed anywhere this nice. I thought he must have been an upscale host, given his access to such a hotel.

He set me on the bed and pulled his shirt over his head. Golden skin, muscle carved like architecture. His gold eyes held mine, and he didn't rush. He let me look.

"You're staring," he said.

"You're shirtless in front of a stranger," I said. "What did you expect?"

His mouth curved. "You kissed me first. I think we're past strangers."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to my collarbone, slow and deliberate, and my back arched before I could stop it. His hands found my waist, my ribs, the zipper at the back of my dress. He pulled it down one inch at a time, his mouth following the path his fingers made, and I forgot how to breathe.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmured against my skin.

I pulled him closer instead.

His palm covered me, and only then did I realize how big his hand was—fingers spread wide, cupping my entire breast like it was made to fit there. His fingers closed slowly, soft flesh spilling through the gaps between them, pressed into small bulges by his knuckles, like fruit swelling past its skin.

He kissed the rise just below my collarbone, then his tongue traced a slow, deliberate circle along the edge where I overflowed his hand, as if mapping something that deserved care.

Then he took me in his mouth.

His lips opened wide, taking the nipple and the surrounding softness together, his tongue pressing first against the very tip, a light pressure that made my whole body jerk. His hand never left—fingers squeezing and releasing in rhythm with his tongue, soft flesh spilling through the gaps and retreating again.

His lips pulled back slowly, a wet drag that echoed too loudly in the quiet room. My nipple glistened, slick and swollen. But before I could catch my breath, he switched to the other side, no preamble this time, just his mouth closing over me, his tongue moving fast and deliberate inside, flicking until my hands twisted in the sheets.

He looked up at me, lips still wrapped around my skin, gold eyes dark in the lamplight like embers burning low.

"Don't stop," I said. My voice came out rougher than I expected.

He pulled back just enough to fit a hand between us, his fingers fluttering and stroking me. I moaned as he added more pressure, teasing me through the thing scrap of lace between us.

"You're already so wet," he groaned, pushing my panties aside and making teasing little circles with his fingers. "I bet you taste…"

I couldn't even reply before he was on his knees, and his face between my legs. He thrust his tongue into me so fast, so deeply, I saw stars. I gripped his hair, and he groaned, thrusting his tongue deeper. I tried to push him away, but my knees were weak. My hips jerked forward on their own, grinding against his face and chasing the feeling of his tongue inside me.

With Aiden, it had always been me doing the work — figuring out what he liked, adjusting, performing. He never asked what I wanted. After the first year he stopped bothering with foreplay entirely, and by the third he barely looked at me during.

This man was nothing like that.

I came apart with a sound I didn't recognize as mine. He kissed the inside of my thigh, gave me exactly long enough to catch my breath, and did it again.

By the time he settled between my legs, I was shaking. He pushed in slow, watching my face, adjusting his angle when my breath hitched. His thumb traced my lower lip and I bit down on it without thinking. He groaned — low, rough, the first sound he'd made that wasn't controlled — and something about that undid me more than anything else.

He held my hip with one hand and my jaw with the other, angling my face up so he could watch me. I let him. I wanted him to.

"Imagine your husband standing on the other side of the door."