Page 70 of Victoria's Discovery

More shifting, more restless little movements that had her breast brushing against his arm and her ass bumping his cock.

They were both panting by that point, but neither acknowledged it.

Her movements became deliberate, but by some unspoken agreement, they both pretended otherwise. Continuing the game, he slid a thigh between her legs with feigned nonchalance. And when she adjusted to straddle it, arching back into him and almost imperceptibly rocking her hips, he kept his groan to a low, stifled grunt.

Hiding in the dark in a suffocatingly small closet, playing an intoxicatingly dangerous game with the woman of his crikking dreams had Vi’kail more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. His cock was slick inside his pants, weeping its need for her, and he was perilously close to losing his mind.

This one moment with her wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough. But he knew this was all he’d ever be allowed, so he soaked in every detail, committing them to memory so he’d have something, anything, of her to hold on to. The way her slight frame felt against him, the way she moved, the sound of her hitching breaths, the scent of her hair in his nose, all of it was burned into his mind to haunt him for the rest of his days.

She had no idea how he needed her, how he suspected he wouldalwaysneed her. But he would’ve made himself be content with that moment… if he hadn’t scented her need.

The second it hit his nose, all his good intentions crumbled to dust. In the span of a heartbeat, his claws burst from their slits, his knot pulsed, swelling in preparation of pumping her full of his seed, and his fangs throbbed.

He tried, stars above, he tried to rein himself back in, but when she chose that moment to say his name, to moan it on a breath of sound, he snapped.

Bowing himself over her with a low growl, Vi’kail buried the fingers of his left hand in her curls, tilting her head to the side so he could drag his tongue up the slim column of her neck.

At her sharp inhale and short whimper, he snarled, jerked his leg out from between her thighs, spun her around, and lifted her up until she was braced against the door.

The last of his self-control was spent pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders and hitching up the hem until it was bunched above her hips instead of ripping it off her body.

“Say it,” he snarled.

Through panting breaths, she gasped, “Yes.”

With a groan, he shoved a hand between her legs, used his claws to shred her panties then forced them to retract so he could slide his fingers over her.

The moment he felt her wetness gliding silkily against his fingertips, wonder and stunned astonishment fired through him, stalling his pounding heart and freezing him in place.

“You’re wet for me,” he rasped.

Males became slick when aroused, but for a female to be wet with need?

“Yes.”

It was the softest of whispers, yet hit him harder than a point-blank shot to the chest from aJweilarhand cannon.

Shock had some of his need receding. Stars save him. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t thought…

What the crik am I doing?

“Vi’kail?”

The uncertainty in her voice cut through his stupor.

Even knowing it made him the worst kind of bastard, he couldn't stand the thought of her shutting down. Not when she was finally in his arms, welcoming his touch even if she only did so because she didn’t know who he really was. And shewouldshut down, retreat into herself, if he didn’t soothe her. He knew that as surely as he knew his soul was stained beyond redemption.

Utterly unable to stop himself, he bent to kiss her, taking her mouth with as much gentleness as he could muster. Only when she relaxed, moaning as she melted against him, did he find her opening with a finger and push inside her heat.

Thrusting shallowly, he let her little moans and whimpers guide him. To his surprise, he found two pleasure centers, one of which was outside and just above her opening that he discovered by accident.

Pumping his finger faster and using his thumb on her external nub, he continued feasting at her mouth, swallowing her cries and pleas for more.

His pace faltered when he felt her unfasten his pants, eyes widening even as his hips jerked hungrily forward, eager for her touch. He should stop her. This was about giving her pleasure, not taking any for himself.

He couldn’t.

Aside from his own painful need eating away at his sanity, he could deny her nothing. If she asked for his still-beating heart, he’d serve it to her on a jewel-encrusted platter.

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