I wanted so much.

I wanted her russet hair wild, loose. I wanted it fanned out, wanted it against the pale of her skin. So I freed it, shook it out, slipped my fingers in until they were deep enough to cup her nape. Tendrils of red against snowy white. Dark eyes searching mine. Lips, lush and waiting.

The breath I drew pulled her closer, my fingers tightening in her hair, exposing her neck, offering her mouth.

And I took it for what it was.

Mine.

Our lips were a hard seam, tongues searching. Searching. My whole life, I’d been searching, restless and restive. But in that moment, I wanted for nothing, sought nothing but her. I sought the heat of her with my fingertips as they slid into her jeans. I sought the depths of her mouth with my tongue. Sought the control of her by way of her hair in my fist, my desire to transmit my ownership of her, to translate the weight of proof.

Because even now, she didn’t believe. She didn’t think I could be what she needed, not yet.

But she would.

I broke the kiss once again, leaving her reeling, hair spilling over her shoulders, eyelids too heavy to open, breasts jostling as I slipped my hand free in order to rid her of her jeans. I pushed them over the swell of her ass, down her hips, to her knees. I captured her nipple with my lips, hands busy with her panties. With a shimmy and a kick, she stepped out of them both. And all I wanted was to drop to my knees right there, to pay homage to her breasts. To kiss my way down her body. To hook her thigh on my shoulder and taste her until she couldn’t stand.

But more than that, I wanted her stretched out and comfortable, prone and exposed. I wanted her vulnerable, to strip her bare as she’d stripped me. So I kissed up her body instead, finding every dip—the valley of her breasts, the hollow of her throat, the soft space behind her jaw—as I backed her toward the blanket. I hooked her waist, reached out to brace us as I laid her down. Spread her legs with my thighs. Rose to my knees.

Her eyes smoldered, snagging mine. Her hands reached for the hem of my shorts.

I caught her wrists in one hand. “No.”

A sweet pout settled on her face. “But I want you,” she said, her voice rough.

“What? What do you want, Tess?”

Her eyes flicked to my cock. It throbbed its answer.

“Tell me,” I said, squeezing her wrists.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, pink and slick. “I want your dick in my face, Luke.”

A smile tugged my lips, just one side. “Next time. This time is mine. I’ve got something to prove, Tess, and I’m not stopping until I prove it.”

She mewled, her hips shifting, calling my attention. I thumbed the rippling flesh between her thighs.