Page 93 of Avidian
My hands move to his stomach, trailing over the coiled muscles there, and then slide up to wrap around his neck, coaxing him to kiss me again. His mouth claims mine, his tongue tracing my bottom lip before trailing to my ear. He nibbles at the sensitive skin, and as I’m about to beg for more, his hand cups my center.
One finger presses inside me, and my body reacts instantly, tightening around him. A groan escapes my lips as my head falls back, exposing my neck to his kisses.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” His lips brush my throat. “So wet for me, Kat.”
I place my hand over his, pressing it to me harder, and he glides another finger inside me. It’s too much and not enough all at once. I need more of him—every piece of him—but the thought also terrifies me.
“So impatient,” he teases, and I don’t disagree.
His thumb grazes my clit, and my hips jerk in response, seeking more of the delicious pressure.
I go completely still when he lowers his mouth to my center, his lips replacing his thumb. His tongue parts my flesh with exquisite precision, my back arches, and I can’t stop the raw, needy sound that tears from my throat. My fingers tangle in his hair, holding him to me as his tongue works magic, circling and stroking. One of his hands keeps a steady hold on my thigh, anchoring me in place, while the other continues its intoxicating rhythm inside me.
“Malachi,” I breathe, and his responding hum sends vibrations through me that push me closer to the edge.
The world fades until there’s nothing but him—his touch, his mouth, the way he’s unraveling me so completely, like he’s always known exactly how. This isn’t just about desire. It’s about trust. About stepping into something I’ve never allowed myself to imagine.
I’ve spent so long running, so long surviving, that I forgot what it feels like to simply be. To let someone in. And now, with Malachi, I feel like I can.
The way he touches me isn’t just hungry—it’s deliberate, like he’s memorizing every inch of me, like he wants to erase everyscar left behind by the life I’ve lived. His focus is all-consuming, and for the first time I feel like more than just my gift or my past.
I didn’t think I’d ever want this. I didn’t think I’d ever trust someone enough to have this. But here I am, wanting him, needing him in a way that scares me and excites me all at once.
For so long, I’ve believed that I was broken. That someone like me couldn’t have a future, let alone happiness. But right now, with his hands on me, with the fire in his eyes pulling me in, I want to believe.
I want to believe I can have more.
That I can have him.
I can have Malachi.
And right now, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
I glance down at him, and air stalls in my lungs. His focus is entirely on me, like I’m the only thing that matters in the world. There’s hunger in his gaze, yes, but there’s something else too. Something softer, more consuming. It’s devotion. Worship. The way his hands move over me, the way his mouth lingers, pulling shivers and gasps from me with every touch… I’ve never felt more wanted.
More seen.
Suddenly, he pulls back, his fingers slipping out of me as he stands. My body protests the loss of him, but the way his hands move to undo his pants ignites a new wave of suspense. My eyes are fixed on him, my breathing uneven as I watch his movements. He doesn’t rush, his focus locked on mine with an intensity that makes my nerves alight.
“Tell me you’ve never done this before.” His pants hit the floor, and he steps out of them with a confidence that’s both captivating and overwhelming.
My breathing falters.
He’s hard and thick, and I can’t tear my eyes away. He’s so fucking perfect, and the urge to taste him builds low in my stomach. But I don’t move—my body frozen, caught in the intensity of the moment.
Heat floods my cheeks, and the air between us crackles, alive with tension. I’ve waited so long for this, and now that it’s here, it feels like I might combust under the weight of it.
“Tell me I’m the only one.” He takes a step toward me.
I meet his unrelenting stare. “There’s only you,” I whisper.
He takes a step closer and then another, until he’s standing between my legs again. His large hands slide up my thighs, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s somehow softer than before but no less consuming. God, I want to cling to him, unshakable, like a shadow bound to its source.
I wrap my arms around his neck as he presses against me. I can feel him at my entrance, his warmth searing into my skin. He touches my breasts and teases my nipples, taking his time kissing my neck then my jaw and my mouth.
“No one else will ever touch you like this.” His lips brush against mine, his hands tightening on my hips. “Because you’re mine, Kat. Only mine.”
The raw hunger in his claim sinks into me, and the way he says my name sends a sharp ache through my chest—one I know I should ignore but can’t.
