Page 120 of Sage Haven
And it hit somewhere deep, somewhere I’d kept hollow for too long.
Like something starved finally speaking.
Like hunger wrapped in ache.
So, I gave him what he was waiting for, “Then taste me, Reich.”
His eyes burned—dark, unrelenting.
And in the next breath, my wrists were pinned above my head, as his mouth dragging slow heat down the curve of my throat, breath hot and uneven.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he growled, voice rough against my skin.
My pulse faltered, breath catching. “Then don’t hold back.”
His smirk was dangerous as he spoke, “Careful what you ask for.”
And then his mouth slammed into mine—raw, savage. This kiss wasn't gentle or tentative; it was a claiming. His grip tightened on my wrists, pinning them roughly above me as his tongue thrusted into my mouth, conquering every corner. He pressed closer, grinding his body into mine until I arched into him, starving for more.
My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him tighter, anchoring him against me. His hands gripped my hips possessively, lifting me higher until I felt all of him—rigid, scorching and urgent.
When he finally tore himself away, his breath rasped harshly, his eyes were dark and filled with what looked like an insatiable hunger.
“Greedy wildflower,” he whispered against my lips.
And I was.
His hands roamed, persistent, rough and reverent all at once, and I let him. Let him take. Let him have me, because in that moment, I wanted to be his.
I needed to be his.
“You want control?” he rasped.
I nodded… before he laughed, “Too bad.”
He hauled me to the bed and pinned me there with his body, straddling me, his smile almost sinister and full of dark promises I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear, but knew I was ready to feel.
He whispered, dragging his fingers beneath my ribs, “you’re mine.”
I shuddered at his words. His hands skated over my skin, exploring and memorizing. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was savoring me.
A chill ripped through my entire body. My nipples hardened beneath his palms as he teased them, rolling them between his fingers, watching every twitch and arch of my body.
“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured against my skin, his mouth leaving a trail of heat as he moved lower.
He trailed his mouth lower. The heat pooling between my thighs as his fingers traced the inside of my leg.
I trembled.
I tried to close my legs, but he held them open.
Pinning me down harder, as I fought.
I pressed my palms to his chest, not to push him away—just to ground myself. His heartbeat pounded beneath my fingers, a mirror of my own.
His fingers teased the inside of my thigh, making me gasp. I tried to clench them together, using my pathetic attempts to block him from access.
He knew I was testing him, fighting him on purpose.
