Page 176 of Savage Crown

The door barely closes before Rylan has me against it, his body pinning me, his breath a curse against my lips.

His hands tremble, but it is not hesitation.

It is barely restrained control.

"Seraphina," he rasps, his voice dark, wrecked.

I shudder. Tighter, deeper, rawer than before.

My name on his lips is no longer just a name.

It is a vow. A command. A prayer.

"You feel it, don’t you?" I whisper, threading my fingers through his silver hair, pulling him closer, pressing myself against him until there is nothing between us but heat.

He exhales sharply, his hands roaming, dragging up my thighs, over my hips, gripping my waist as if to hold me still.

"You belong to me now," he murmurs, his lips brushing my throat.

A slow, aching burn spreads through me at his words.

I do.

I always have.

But so does he.

I tilt my head back, exposing my neck to him, an offering, feeling the sharp inhale of his breath as he presses his lips against my pulse.

"Forever, Rylan," I moan, my voice thick with need.

A guttural growl rumbles in his chest, possessive and raw, before his teeth graze the sensitive skin of my neck. I gasp, a sharp, desperate sound escaping me as his lips trail lower, lower, the heat of his mouth a brand searing a path to my aching core.

The warmth becomes a consuming fire, a slow descent into madness. I arch into him, my body already ablaze, wrecked and wanting, the power of our bond pulling, pushing, demanding,more.

And gods, I crave so much more.

His hands are everywhere, tearing at the remnants of silk clinging to my body, his breath ragged as he bares me to him, to the hunger in his eyes, the possessiveness of his touch.

"You are beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough against my skin.

A dark, hungry smirk curves my lips.

His control shatters. Rylan lifts me, carrying me to the massive bed that dominates the chamber.

The cool silk sheets brush against my back, a fleeting sensation lost in the inferno of his touch. I barely register it.

Not when he's above me, his weight pressing me into the mattress, his lips trailing fire down my chest, over the taut plane of my stomach, lower, lower still.

“Rylan!” I gasp, my body writhing, arching, pleasure coiling tight, twisting, almost too much to bear.

He hasn't even taken me yet.

His hands grip my thighs, spreading me wide, his breath a hot curse against my slick folds.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and dangerous.

I meet his gaze, drowning in the molten depths of his desire. Rylan devours me with his eyes, and then with his mouth. His lips are hot, demanding, dragging me to the edge, his tongue a slow, torturous promise, a declaration that I am his, and his alone.

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