Page 54 of The Alpha's Forbidden Heir

Before I can react, his hands are on my hips, tugging me forward until I'm in the right position. The heat of his touch makes me inhale sharply.

"Relax," he murmurs in a tone that does the exact opposite.

I try to focus as he adjusts my posture, his hands firm but careful. His chest brushes my back as he moves closer, and suddenly, I can feel everything.

"Keep your feet apart," he says, his breath warm against my ear. "Like this."

He nudges my legs wider with his knee, and I bite my lip as heat surges through me.

"Good," he continues, oblivious—or maybe not. His voice dips lower. "Now, throw a punch."

I do as he says, punching forward.

"Not bad," he says, his voice still low. "But your form needs work. Try again."

I throw another punch, and this time, his hand slides to my shoulder, guiding the motion.

"Better," he says.

But I can barely hear him over the pounding in my chest. His hands linger, trailing from my shoulder to my arm, then back to my waist.

"Bane," I start, but my voice wavers.

"Hmm?" he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to my ear now.

"You're—"

"Teaching you," he finishes, his voice like gravel. "Don't stop now."

But his hands don't stop either. One slides to my stomach, his fingers brushing just under the edge of my tank top. I suck in a breath as heat pools low in my belly.

"This is... not self-defense," I manage to say, but it sounds more like a gasp.

"No?" he asks, and there is that smirk in his voice again.

His other hand grips my hip, pulling me back against him. I can feel how hard he is, pressing against me in a way that makes my knees weak.

"Bane," I say again, this time more like a plea.

"What is it, Aria?" he murmurs, his lips grazing my ear.

I turn my head slightly, intending to push him away, but the second our eyes meet, I am lost. His gaze is dark, smoldering, and filled with a hunger that matches my own.

"I shouldn't..." I start, but then his mouth is on mine, swallowing whatever protest I might've had.

His kiss is demanding, bruising, and I can't help but respond, my hands tangling in his hair as I turn fully toward him.

He pushes me back against the wall, his body pinning mine as his hands roam over me.

"Tell me to stop," he growls against my lips.

But I can't. I don't want to.

Instead, I moan his name, and that is all the permission he needs.

His hands slip under my tank top, his fingers tracing fire across my skin as his lips move to my neck.

"Bane..." I whisper again, but it isn't a protest.

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