My back arched, giving him more access to my skin. My core throbbed. And my breath escaped through me in harsh raggedness.
“Trey,” I managed to say, hoarse, trembling. “Trey…”
“Speak…” he ordered, his voice muffled against my neck. His hands slipped into my jacket, finding my hardened nipple beneath the soft woolen shirt I wore. No bra. “Speak.”
He squeezed, sucking more aggressively at my neck now. “Speak, Feyre!”
“We shouldn’t.”
Trey stiffened at my words, his lips stilling against my skin. His breath was warm, ragged, uneven—like he was barely holding himself together. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he pulled away, his lips dragging against my skin until they were gone entirely. The absence was immediate. Cold. Aches bloomed where he had been only moments before.
His hands moved to the blindfold, and in one swift, deliberate motion, he yanked it off. The sudden light made me blink rapidly, disoriented. His face was close, impossibly close, his dark, smoldering eyes locking onto mine. I barely had time to process the intensity in his gaze before his lips crashed against mine again—harder this time, more demanding.
He kissed me like he was trying to claim me, like he wanted to erase any hesitation I had left. My lungs burned as he stole my breath, leaving me gasping against him. When he finally broke away, our foreheads pressed together, I was left panting, my chest heaving against his.
A lost kingdom’s child. A rejected wolf. And a man who would burn the world for her.
This time, she wasn’t running. This time, she was ready to fight.
