Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"I…" I trail off, unsure how to answer. Do I know? I think so. I feel hope fluttering in my bones. But I need him to set it free. It can't fly until he does.
He leans toward me, eyes locked with mine, one hand against my cheek. His thumb sweeps along my bottom lip. "War doesn't matter. You do, Brynna," he says. "You've been in the middle your entire fucking life. I won't be the reason you're caught in the middle of this, too. I promised you that wouldn't be a pawn. I won't be a predator and make you one now. You're safe with me. You'll always be safe with me, little one."
I sob his name, throwing myself into his arms as hope explodes through me, firing like a ball from a cannon. It ignites every inch of me, setting me ablaze.
He was right the day we met when he said that, one day soon, I'd want him to claim every piece of me more than I want air. That day is today. It's right now.
"Make me yours," I plead, digging my nails into his broad shoulders. "Please, Naz. Break me. Unmake me. I need it."
"Fuck," he growls, dragging me into his arms as his lips come down on mine. His kiss consumes me, branding me in ways his hands can't. He demands my surrender, and I give it willingly, my fingers tangling in the inky black strands of his hair.
His hands slip beneath my shirt, his knuckles raking up my sides as he slips it up my body. Our mouths part only long enough for him to slip it off over my head, and then we come together again, desperate, aching. Cool air kisses my skin as he reaches for my bra, nimble fingers tearing through the hooks.
The straps slip from my shoulders, leaving me bare to him from the waist up. He pulls back just enough to rake his molten gaze over me. Possession fires in his eyes as he reaches out, brushing his thumb across my right nipple.
"Oh, mi alma," he rasps, a thread in his voice that makes my core clench. "You're beautiful. But you're going to be fucking ravishing when these are covered in little marks to remind you that you belong to me now."
"Do it," I whimper, wanting to see it. Wanting proof on my body that he was here. That I'm his, and he's mine. I want evidence of his possession painted across my skin, screaming our defiance to the world. "Mark me, Naz. Claim me."
Pride and possession flare in his eyes. He drags me up against his chest, his mouth finding my right nipple. He sucks it between his lips, his tongue laving the peak.
I cry out, arching into him as pleasure spirals through me in a dizzying cloud.
His teeth graze my skin before he bites down. Pain collides with intense, blistering pleasure, and I writhe, sobbing in ecstasy.
His hands sink into my hips, holding me still as he switches to my left breast. Every touch of his lips against my skin is like a brand, claiming me as his. And every dark bruise he leaves behind sends another wave of need crashing through me.
"Naz," I whimper.
He seems to know exactly what I need more than I do.
"I've got you, little one. Patience."
But I'm not patient. I'm on fire, burning with need. Burning for him.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my leggings, dragging them down my hips and thighs, leaving me bare and aching. Possession and hunger smolder in the amber depths of his eyes as they rake over me, searing my skin, sparking an inferno inside me.
"So goddamn beautiful," he murmurs, his fervent praise leaving me trembling. No one has ever seen me naked before. I'm not a small girl. I never have been. I've got stretchmarks and rolls, dimples and imperfections everywhere. But the way he looks at me with so much desire, as if I'm a work of art, is a powerful, heady thing.
He rises, towering above me, tall and imposing. So fucking beautiful. With a smirk, he presses a hand against my shoulder, sending me sprawling across the bed.
"Watch me, mi cielito," he commands. "Don't take those pretty little eyes off me. I want you to see exactly what you've done to me, exactly how fucking hard that sweet body makes me."
My breath trembles on my lips as I nod, my eyes locked on him as his hands go to the buttons of his shirt. One by one, he slips them free.
I press my thighs together as he reveals perfect brown skin, inch by gorgeous inch. Tattoos swirl across his skin in intricate designs that whisper of pain and heritage, of honor and obligation, of secrets and the man behind the mask he wears like adamantine armor.