I blinked up at him, heart stuttering. He was actually happy… and I had been terrified he was only playing with me. Before I could speak, he cupped my cheek with one large, callused hand, his thumb tenderly brushing away the tears still clinging to my lashes. Slowly, he pressed his forehead against mine. Our breaths mingled—hot, ragged, and desperate—in the thick silence between us. "Can I kiss you, Lena?" he whispered, his voice rough, low, and pleading. A shaky, breathless chuckle escaped me, laced with leftover emotion and fresh, aching desire. "Just kiss?" I breathed. "You can do so much more than that… you know." Something feral flashed in his wild eyes. Without warning, he claimed my mouth in a deep, devouring kiss. It wasn't gentle—it was hungry, possessive, almost savage. His tongue swept inside, tasting me like I was the only thing that could quench his thirst. I moaned into his mouth, kissing him back with equal desperation, fingers digging into his broad shoulders a
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