Page 6 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

I kissed him back anyway.

“I need to know your name,” he said against my lips, his voice rough, breath hot against my skin.

I smirked, eyes half-lidded. “It’sAda.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes glinting with heat and something sharper. “Ada,” he repeated, low and deliberate.

I tilted my chin, the corner of my mouth lifting. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” he said, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “It’s polite to know the name of the woman who’s going to lose her mind on my tongue.”

I didn’t have a comeback. Not when his hands slid up under the hem of my dress. Not when he pushed the fabric aside like itoffended him. Not when his mouth trailed down my neck, over my collarbone, lower.

And definitely not when he knelt.

“Sebastian,” I breathed, threading my fingers through his hair.

‘”If you’re going to say my name, make it louder.”

He just looked up at me with those wicked blue eyes, kissed the inside of my thigh like a promise, and then made good on every single word.

My head fell back against the wall with a soft thud, breath caught somewhere between a moan and a prayer I hadn’t said in years.

He didn’t rush.

Gods, he knew what he was doing—mouth sure and slow, tongue relentless, hands holding my hips like he could keep me from flying apart. I gripped his hair tighter, thighs trembling around his shoulders as heat coiled in my belly and pulled tight.

“Right there,” I gasped, voice wrecked.

He hummed low in response, like he already knew. Like he’d known from the first second he touched me.

The pressure shattered, pleasure cracking through me like lightning. My knees buckled and I came hard, crying out as the world went white for one perfect, pulsing moment. His name was a broken whisper on my lips, swallowed by the city lights behind my eyelids.

Before I could recover, he stood with that predator grace, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he’d just tasted something decadent.

Which, judging by the look on his face, he had.

Then he grabbed me—hands on my waist, fingers sinking into my thighs—and threw me onto the bed.

I landed on the soft, sprawling mattress with a laugh that turned into a gasp as he climbed over me, his body hot and hardand all Alpha.

“Fuck, Ada,” he groaned, dragging his hips against mine, eyes blazing. “You make me so goddamn hard I’m losing my mind.”

I bit my bottom lip, watching him from under heavy lids. “Is that a complaint?”

He leaned down, lips brushing mine again, his breath ragged. “It’s a warning.”

Then he kissed me—deeper, hungrier than before—and I opened to him like a match to a flame.

Let the burn begin.

He kissed me like he was starving and I was the only thing that could satisfy the hunger. Hands on either side of my head, body pressed to mine, hard and hot and so ready. I could feel him through his pants, thick and demanding, and my pulse kicked hard against my skin.

“Tell me you want this,” he rasped, his mouth dragging down the side of my neck. “Because I’m two seconds from fucking you into this mattress.”

I pulled him closer, hooked a leg around his hip, and answered the only way that mattered—grinding up into him, desperate and unashamed.

That was all it took.

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