Roark let out a rough breath when my hands trailed down the flat planes of his stomach, memorizing the divots, the curves of muscle.

I paused at the gash in his side. “Are you well or should I stop, Sentry?”

He gripped my chin, answering with a bruising kiss.

I whimpered when Roark frantically slid my gown down, so it settled around my hips.

He kissed over my heart, the side of one breast, my navel, until he settled on his knees, pushing my skirt over my knees where the top bodice was bunched around my middle. Roark dragged his teeth along my inner thigh, rolling his eyes up to meet mine.

You have me on my knees, what should we do about this?

My core ached. “Make good on that promise, Roark Ashwood, and kiss me.”

With a beautifully vicious grin, Roark pressed a hand on my middle, guiding me to sit on the edge of the table. With one heated look, he draped my knees over his shoulders and ran his tongue over me between my thighs. I could not draw in a breath. The cautious life, the safety I’d always craved, shattered beneath his kiss, the rough grip of his hands on my thighs.

In this moment I did not want caution. I wanted passion and madness and desire that could be relieved only by his hands, his kiss. I let my knees fall open, my heels digging into his upper back. Roark followed his tongue with his fingers, drawing me to the jagged edge too soon.

I grasped at his hair, my head falling back. “Roark.”

The sound of his name spurred him on. He gripped my hips, holding me steady as he deepened his kiss and nipped at the sensitive flesh of my core.

I sucked in a sharp gasp when Roark flattened his tongue, drawing deeper; my thighs trembled around his head. Unable to stop, I bucked against his mouth, lost in a delirious haze.

Tap, tap, tap. His gentle claim struck my thigh.

My hips writhed under his vicious kiss. Need and desire coiled low in my belly, spilling through my core with every shift of his face to reach a new angle, with every groan he breathed over my soaked core.

He added his fingers, curling them, pressing his thumb against the sensitive apex between my thighs.

“Don’t stop.” I let out a strangled rasp when Roark swirled his thumb in a new direction.

Sobs of his name came out in rough pants. Roark gripped my thighs, his fingertips digging into my flesh. By the gods, I never wanted him to let go.

My head snapped back when he sucked harder. Another sharp gasp, another shudder, and my body went rigid as the taut pressure snapped.

His name came out in a strangled cry from deep in my chest.