Tyrant (Scars of the Wraiths #2)(75)

I breathed in his scent and reached up to cup the back of his neck, drawing him closer, so his chest was pressing into mine. “I’ve never had sex with a man I desired before.” The color drained from his face and his body stiffened. “I wouldn’t even call what I had as sex, really.” His brows lowered and eyes darkened. “What I feel for you, what my body feels, I can’t explain it. But maybe it’s not meant to be explained because it’s a feeling. And I like that feeling. I want more of it. I want more of you.”

Kilter was quiet for a minute, and I got a little nervous that maybe he’d changed his mind about wanting to sleep with me. “Kilter?”

“Not good at this shit,” he said. He ran his thumb back and forth over my lower lip. “This between us is what breaks a man, but it’s also what makes him whole. You make me whole, babe.” I opened my mouth and he shook his head. “Not done yet.” I smiled. “You saw me when no one else did. You trusted me when I gave you nothing to trust.”

My breath hitched. I never expected that from Kilter. He was closed off behind walls that protected him. But he trusted me, and maybe because I’d trusted him first. I showed him the path.

“And I’ll always want to f*ck you.”

Shit, he’d read my thoughts.

His body tensed, tatted arms flexing as he hovered above me. “You sort your shit out?”

“Yeah.” I smiled.

His brows lifted. “It’s been a f*ckin’ hour.”

“Don’t need much time,” I replied, repeating what he’d said before.

He snorted, and then there was a brilliant spark of light in his eyes and a subtle grin. God, he was beautiful.

“Won’t ask you again, you sure?”

I yanked him closer with a hand bunched in his T-shirt. His elbows collapsed and his chest lay on mine. “Yeah, babe,” I said, smiling. “I’m f*ckin’ sure.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but the laughter faded as his eyes darted to my mouth as I licked my lower lip. I saw the change in his eyes as they smoldered with desire.

Butterflies sprung and tingles erupted everywhere. Then he leaned over me, his lips almost touching mine but not quite. His heated breath tickled my cheek as he shifted to my ear and my breath stopped.

“We do this… forever, Rayne.” His whispered words caused goose bumps to scatter across my skin. “And being immortal, that’s a f*ck of a long time.” His tongue traced the tip of my ear. “You’re mine because you choose to be. No other way.”

“Okay.” I couldn’t breathe. Damn it, I couldn’t goddamn breathe. He suckled the lobe of my ear and twinges erupted between my legs. “Kilter?” I whispered.

His kissed the edge of my jaw then down my neck. “Yeah?”

I swallowed. “Can you kiss me now?”

He lifted, his eyes meeting mine. “Trying to take my time, babe.”

I didn’t want him to take his time. “Can you take your time after we’re done?”

He huffed with a mild smirk. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

And that was it. All control vanished as his mouth slammed onto mine.

Consuming.

Powerful.

Releasing.

It was everything Kilter was. Rough. Honest. Raw. Unbending.

His mouth roamed over mine, tasting, discovering. My lips throbbed and my body ached. His hand slid down my side to my hip then back up again, slipping beneath my shirt. The touch of his hand on my bare skin sent a wave of heat through me.

His tongue swept into my mouth as the kiss deepened. Slower, but just as fierce.

“Fuck, baby.” He broke away and trailed kisses along my chin and down my neck. “Never been like this.”

I moaned when his thumb stroked back and forth just beneath my lace bra. Oh, God, I tilted my head back, a soft gasp escaping when a featherlight touch of his thumb brushed over my nipple. But I was still wearing my bra and I needed his hands. His touch.

“Kilter,” I breathed.

“Fuck, you taste amazing. Beautiful.” He trailed kisses along my collarbone then pushed my shirt over my shoulder and kissed there, too.

“Kilter?”

“Hmm.” He didn’t lift his head, nor did he stop kissing me, so his lips vibrated against my skin.

“Shirt.”

He nipped my left shoulder and lifted, tore his shirt off over his head, and tossed it aside. Then his lips were on mine again.

“My shirt,” I said against his mouth. “I need your hands on me.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, but kept kissing me, his hand now sliding over my ribs, down to my hip where he squeezed.

Suddenly, he moved, shifting to the side of me. My eyes hit his chest and I stilled as I stared at the beauty mixed with the painful scars of his past. I couldn’t look away and I knew he was watching me as I saw for the first time what his brother had done to him.

I placed my palm on his chest and slowly ran my fingers over the raised lines that were accentuated with black ink. He didn’t hide them. No, Kilter had black ink engraved into each jagged scar.

My eyes trailed down to his hard abdomen, each muscle pronounced, and yet there too was scarred by what his brother did to him. On his right shoulder was the spectacular tattoo of what appeared like a dragon with scales and claws, but it also was something else, like a beast of some kind.