Page 25 of Siren's Salvation

Shiver's eyes darken.

In one swift motion, he lifts me, my legs wrapping around his waist.

He carries me to the bed, our lips never parting.

As he lays me down and I drink in the sight of him.

His tattooed skin glistens with a light sheen of sweat, his muscles rippling as he hovers over me.

"You're gorgeous," I breathe.

He smirks. "And you're overdressed."

What follows is a frenzy of hands and lips, clothes being shed with desperation I haven’t experienced since I lost my virginity.

Shiver's touch is electric, igniting every nerve ending in my body.

He's rough, dominant, exactly what I need.

"Tell me what you want," he commands, his voice husky with desire.

I arch into him. "You," I moan. "All of you."

He doesn't disappoint.

Our bodies move together in a passionate dance, the intensity building with each moment.

I lose myself in the sensation, in the feeling of Shiver's calloused hands on my skin, his lips on mine.

When it's over, we lay tangled in the sheets, both of us breathing heavily.

Shiver presses a kiss to my forehead. "Get some sleep, darlin'," he murmurs. "You were amazing."

As he dresses and leaves, I feel a pang of... something.

Regret?

Longing?

I push the feeling aside, locking the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, I lean against the door.

What have I done?

I collapse onto my bed, the sheets still warm and rumpled from our encounter.

My eyes fix on the ceiling, tracing the faint shadows cast by the dim light filtering through my curtains.

The reality of what just happened crashes over me like a tidal wave.

"Fuck," I whisper, running my hands over my face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I had one rule.

One simple, ironclad rule that I've lived by since joining this life: never get involved with anyone in the club.

Not as lovers, not as a one-night stand, nothing.

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