Page 19 of God of War

He groans against me, his arms tightening around my waist. "Brynna," he whispers, his hands fisting into my shirt. "Dio, mi cielito. You're killing me."

I think I'm killing me, too. I press my face against his throat, trying to get myself under control. Instead, I manage to knock the book I was thumbing through off the shelf.

Naz glances down at it and chuckles, unwinding himself from around me. His gaze flicks to mine, his amber eyes full of mischief as he bends to pick it up. "Is there something in particular in here that caught your eye, Brynna?" His deep voice sends a shiver racing down my spine. "Because I'm more than willing to put you in any position you point out, little one."

"What?" My brows furrow in confusion. Right up until I glance down at the book and realize he's holding a copy of the Kama Sutra, anyway. Mortification floods through me, heat blazing in my cheeks.

"Oh my God. I didn't…I don't…" I stutter, my tongue suddenly tied in knots. "This is so embarrassing."

"Embarrassing? No,mi cielito. You in any of these positions is a fucking dream come true." He flips through a few pages, his expression heated.

"You aren't helping," I groan.

He steps closer, crowding me up against the shelf again. "I'm not trying to help, Brynna. I like you trembling and sweet," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I like the flush to your cheeks and the way your pulse flutters." He nips my ear, his warm breath against my skin, stealing mine. "I like you thinking about me inside you."

I whimper, my knees quaking beneath me.

"Tell me, what filthy desires hide behind those innocent eyes, hmm? What is it that makes that sweet little body ache and burn?" he rasps, his voice gritty as he pulls back to look at me.

I swallow hard, my body trembling under his intense scrutiny. No one has ever looked at me the way he does—like he wants to consume me, possess me, worship me. Like he wants to own every thought in my head, every secret fantasy. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

He trails his fingers along my wrist, branding me as his with nothing but his touch. "Do you want me to show you what you need so badly, Brynna?" he asks, his voice a seductive purr. "Do you want me to shatter you right here with entire worlds stretching out around us?"

Yes, I want to scream. I want it with an intensity that's terrifying. But the word lodges in my throat, trapped by the magnitude of this decision. If I give in now, let him in like this, there won't be any going back.

Naz will own me, body and soul. And I'll have willingly signed the deed.

As if sensing how badly I want to say yes, he lifts my chin with gentle fingers, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Let go,cariño," he croons. "Trust me with your body, even if you can't trust me with your heart. Let me give this to you. Let me worship."

The last of my resistance crumbles, swept away by the tsunami of desire his plea sends crashing over me.

"Yes," I breathe, that single word sealing my fate. "Show me what I'm missing, Naz."

A slow, wicked smile curves his lips. He leans down, his mouth a breath from mine as he presses the book back into my hands. "Flip through your naughty little book, Brynna," he murmurs. "Find a position that makes your cunt ache for my touch."

My hands tremble as I slowly turn the pages, each new explicit image sending a jolt of lust straight to my core. His fingers dance down my spine in a teasing caress that has me arching into him, silently begging for more.

He chuckles, the wicked sound pulsing against my clit. "So responsive," he breathes, slipping his hand beneath the hem of my shirt. The feel of his palm against my bare skin is electric. "I've barely touched you, and you're already quivering so sweetly for me."

I gasp as he grazes the underside of my breast, my nipples tightening into aching points. He traces the lacy edge of my bra, his touch maddeningly light.

I'm on fire, every nerve ending screaming.

"Please," I whimper, letting the book fall from my hands as I press myself up against him, desperate to feel him everywhere.

He hauls me up against his chest, the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my stomach. I rock my hips against him, the move instinctive, automatic. I want him to burn like I do.

He groans, his careful control splintering. "Careful, little one," he warns, his voice rough and gritty. "Keep teasing me, and I won't be able to stop myself from fucking you right here against the bookshelves while the cashier listens to you scream."

A wild thrill rushes through me at his words, the threat in them only fueling the ache consuming me. I want him to lose control, to claim me as if he can't stop himself.

I don't want calm, careful Naz, the man trying to prove himself worthy of me. I want the wicked prince who pillages and conquers and takes no prisoners. That's who he really is. Infinitely capable of love, kind when it matters, but ruthless and completely at ease in his own skin, with his own dark desires.

I meet his gaze, a challenge in mine. "Then do it, Naz," I dare him breathlessly. "Take what you want."

A muscle ticks in his jaw, molten hunger burning in his eyes. His hand delves into my hair, gripping the fiery strands as he tilts my head back. "Last chance to run,cariño," he rumbles. "Because once I have you, I won't let you go."

I fist my hands in his shirt, anchoring myself to his hard body. "I'm not running," I whisper. "I'm exactly where I want to be."

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