He moves close enough for his chest to be flush against mine and wraps one arm around my middle, his large hand clutching my waist. Laying his other hand on my nape above the collar, he pulls my head to his shoulder again. I shudder as he folds me into his strength, and gladly sink into a gentle hold that’s a world away from Belanger’s grasping hunger.

The Flame streams more slowly toward his touch—a champagne river rather than a molten rush—and the body-wide tension softens in response. My fear of restraint melts away into satisfied pleasure.

His hold is tender but firm enough to ease the pressure on my wrists, which suspend my heavy torso from the bar above my head. He pushes my hips into his, and his skin—usually so hot—feels cool against mine. Flame tingles through every point of contact. My hard cock, aching for friction, is squeezed against his groin. It’s way more intimate than I’ve ever been with a man, but I fucking love it.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into my ear, his deep husky tone making me shiver. “I can hold you from the back if that’s easier for you.”

I nestle my forehead deeper into his neck and push my hips forward. In response, he leans closer, his arm tightening around my waist. When I’m stronger, I plan to give him hell about this whole day. Worst day of my life. I should be railing at him, refusing his attention. But I don’t have the strength or the desire. I want this. I want more than this. I want to lick his juicy neck while I fuck myself against him, spill my cum across those fine abs.

What the hell am I saying? The Flame is in full control of my faculties. If he offered to fuck me, I’m not sure I’d be able to refuse him.

I let myself sink further into his hold but try to keep my hips still. I ignore the luscious scent of rain and moon and musk and close my eyes against the onslaught of desire.

As the minutes pass, he holds me to him with an almost possessive tension. “Forgive me,” he whispers against my hair. “I have you. Everything will be okay now.”

I don’t believe him, but I soften further as the rumble of his deep voice strokes my insides. His breathing shifts his chest against mine with a steady rhythm.

We rest like that for a long time. The buttery light flickers. The room becomes darker. Flame tingles from my skin into his, and my body cools. The painful burning becomes a pleasant heat. The throbbing in my brain feels milder now, the pulsing in my spine strong but not painful. Even the ache of my joints and the soreness of both knees slip into the background.