He pauses, his eyes meeting mine in a look so intense it could almost be a touch.
No one has ever unraveled me like this. My skin tingles, my pulse races, and a fear like no other takes hold—the fear of truly feeling, of letting go. Yet, despite the teachings of theMathairs, despite my instinct to remain aloof and cold like a shark, here with him, I’m tempted to stop swimming, to stop and simply be.
He stretches out over me and pauses, his weight comfortably nestled between my parted legs, his hands gently cupping my face. His gaze locks with mine as he speaks in a low, soothing tone, “You’re safe, Bridget. I’ve got you. Forever.”
His words pierce me, a direct strike to the heart. I shouldn’t feel safe, I shouldn’t trust, yet everything about him—his touch, his gaze—whispers safety.
He resumes his exploration, his mouth returning to my clit, his tongue and lips coaxing another climax from me with wicked proficiency.
Pleasure ripples. Everything throbs. Desire coils.
I stare down at this man through the shadows and faint streaks of moonlight in his dark bedroom. His brown eyes seem more golden, almost glowing in the dark. The pure adoration in his gaze holds me spellbound.
One of his large hands is splayed across my hip, while he licks and kisses me. His other hand lazily strokes his cock. I’m jealous of his hand. I want to feel his cock.
“Bast. I want you back inside me. Now.”
His lips curve against my clit. “Not before you come again, love.” He nips a little harder and then sucks my swollen clit into his mouth, and I come with a wild shout. Everything contractsand pulses. My back bows and he hums against my clit, driving the wave higher.
A moment later he’s driven his cock back inside me with a deep animalistic growl. He pounds into me and I come again, flailing and reaching for any part of him to cling to. It’s so much. So many feelings all at once.
He pins my arms above my head, his movements relentless, driven by a hunger that seems to feed on my responses. Every thrust, every touch, is more insistent than the last. He dips his head to tease and torment my nipples with his teeth, each bite sending shock waves through my trembling body.
His breath is hot against my ear, his voice a low growl that vibrates through me. “Mine. You’re mine, Bridget. Say it.” His words are a command, a plea, a claim that stirs a war inside me.
No. I can’t. I don’t want to lie to you.Tears well, unbidden in my eyes.
“Say it, love.” His insistence is matched by a deeper, more desperate thrust.
“Yours,” I whisper, giving him what he wants. I wish it were true. Right now. In this moment, I wish it was true. I wish I could be his, but I’m caught in a web of secrets and duty that will never let me go.
He takes my mouth again and with a final thrust spills himself inside me. “You are everything.”
I feel the truth in that statement and it terrifies me. My instincts scream at me to run, but I have to see this through. He has to trust me.
He collapses slightly, burying his face in the crook of my neck. I feel him—raw, real, and unrestrained—his heart beating fiercely against mine.
I savor the closeness, wishing time could stand still, wishing I could capture this moment and live in it eternally.The happiness, the connection—I know I’ll never experience anything like this again.
Chapter Eleven
Bridget Winslow
Marks of the Mated
I wake slowly, cocooned in warmth and comfort. For a moment, I allow myself to bask in the peaceful feeling, my mind blissfully blank. The bed is softer than I remember, the sheets silky against my skin. The scent is unfamiliar but pleasant—a mix of pine and something distinctly masculine, earthy and intoxicating.
Reality seeps in gradually, like sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. This isn’t my room at the inn. The events of last night rush back, vivid and intense, and I feel a flush creep up my neck, warmth spreading across my cheeks.Bast.I spent the night with Bast.
I turn my head slightly, careful not to disturb him. He’s still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A stray lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and I resist the urge to brush it away, to feel its softness between my fingers.
For a moment, my heart swells with an unfamiliar tenderness. But I quickly tamp it down. He’s not my boyfriend. I’m not staying in Colorado long. This was just…what? A mistake? A moment of weakness?
I need to focus. I have a mission to complete. Stay on task, Bridget.
Gently, I extricate myself from Bast’s embrace, sliding out of bed as quietly as possible. The cool air of the room raises goose bumps on my bare skin, and I shiver, suddenly missing the warmth of his body. I need to use the bathroom and freshen up before I figure out my next move.
I tiptoe across the room, the hardwood floor cool beneath my feet, locating the bathroom door. Once inside, I fumble for the light switch, wincing as the harsh fluorescent bulb flickers to life. Blinking against the sudden brightness, I use the toilet quickly and move to the sink.
