I held the back of his head against my skin, my body arching into his touch, his tongue, his kiss.

I wanted to unravel him the way he was destroying me.

With one hand, I reached between us, gathering the latches of his trousers, but Roark pulled my hand away and shook his head. His eyes burned in a molten blaze when he opened his palm over my heart, patting the place three times.

A gentle declaration this moment belonged to me alone.

My neckline slipped low over my chest, barely shielding the peak of one nipple. Roark slid his fingers deeper inside, and his thumb rolled across the sensitive apex between my thighs, in the same moment his mouth found the swell of my breast.

His touch was too much, it stole my restraint, and I bucked my hips with every motion of his hand.

Roark grinned against my skin when I whimpered. Heat coiled taut in my lower belly. My thighs clenched. As though sensing the build, Roark lifted his head, holding the back of my neck, and crashed my mouth against his.

I broke.

Roark kissed me through the wave of my release. His name rolled over my tongue. He held me closer, pulsing his beautifully cruel fingers in and out of me, and in the same breath steadying me through the rush until my pulse slowed again.

One palm brushed over his flushed face. I traced the curve of his lips. He studied me, face unreadable.

What were we doing?

“I want to touch you,” I whispered, embarrassment heating my cheeks.

Roark’s eyes glistened with dark need. He seemed to consider the words, no doubt weighing the risks and worth of this, then gave me a slow nod.

The way I’d done to him, Roark guided my palm to the front of his trousers where his desire strained against the laces. I stroked him over his trousers for a moment, then reached for his belt. My palms settled on his thighs. “I have never done this, but will you…let me taste you?”

Roark’s jaw flexed. He took hold of my wrist and flattened my palm so he could speak across my skin. I do not expect it.

“I know,” I whispered. “I want to.”

His eyes heated. A small smirk teased the corner of his mouth. Roark gripped my chin with one hand, drawing my mouth close, but with the other he made certain I understood his every command. On your knees.

All gods.

I leveraged off his lap and lowered to my knees between his legs.

My fingertips slipped under the waist of his trousers. Heat swirled in my belly when I brushed over the taut crown of his length. I lifted my chin, taking note of the way Roark’s fist clenched when my fingers gently caressed back and forth.