Neris kissed Rhea like his life depended on it, as though the world had narrowed to the space between their mouths.
There was nothing gentle about the way his mouth claimed hers—no hesitation, no restraint. It was not a gentle kiss. It was not exploratory. It was consuming.
There was possession in the way he kissed her. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger that stole her breath, a kiss born of possession, yearning, and something darker that pulsed beneath the surface. A raw hunger that made her fingers curl into the fabric of his tunic as though anchoring herself to him was the only way to remain standing.
Rhea gasped softly, her fingers instinctively clutching at his shoulders. She gasped again ....softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth.
This was different.
So different.
The other times he had taken her, it had felt measured. Controlled. As though he were completing an obligation rather than surrendering to desire.
