Tangled

41 Ava: Virgin Heat (1)

41 Ava: Virgin Heat (I)

I brace myself against the slick tiles, my chest heaving with harsh, ragged breaths as Clayton’s eyes blaze into mine. The heat between us is a living, breathing thing, a palpable force that crackles in the air like an electric

current.

“Clayton,” I manage, my voice a breathless rasp. “We need to… call the guards.”

My words would probably have a little more punch if I wasn’t still working my fingers between my thighs. His eyes fall from my face to my hands, and he steps

forward.

A thrill rushes through me, and I spread my legs a little farther. “The guards,” I prompt, even as I bring myself to yet another orgasm, panting as my face flushes with

its heat.

I want his fingers, not mine.

I want his tongue, not his fingers.

I want his cock, not his tongue.

I want…

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41 Ava: Virgin Heat (1)

Fuck, I can’t handle this.

His nostrils flare at the sound of my voice, his jaw clenching as a muscle ticks in his chiseled cheek. I can see the war raging within him, the primal alpha instincts battling against his ironclad control.

his lips sends a fresh wave of desire crashing through me. I whimper, my thighs clenching tight as I struggle

builds in his chest. He takes a step forward, his movements slow

warns, his voice a low, gravelly purr that sends shivers racing down my spine. “I can smell your

towards him. The heat is a living inferno now, an all–consuming

beg, the word torn from

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217

Ava: Virgin

keening cry.

consumes me from the inside out. But Clayton seems to understand, his eyes glittering with a feral light as he takes another

promise that has my core clenching with fresh need. “You need to be

last.”

me down, spearing into me over and over as he takes me with brutal, claiming force. His knot swelling inside me,

part of me knows that it isn’t right, that Clayton isn’t my fated mate, no matter how badly my instincts are screaming for me to let him

No claiming.

3/7

Ava: Virgin Heat (1)

Just sex.

relief from all this.

But-

cracking with strain. “We need… the guards.” I’m trying to maintain rationality, and yet I hold out my hand,

closer.

prowls closer, his eyes blazing like twin emerald flames. “No guards, little one,” he counters, his tone laced with steel.

either side of my head as he cages me in. I can feel the scorching heat of his body, can smell the heady, musky scent of his arousal mingling with mine in the steamy air. He’s soaked from the water, and I struggle with the urge to

you, Ava,” he murmurs, his breath fanning hot across my

crashes down on

as he kinnon me

murarica na ha

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foracious

417

Ava: Virgin

a blatant possession that has

the taste of him, in the blazing heat of his kiss and the hard planes of his body pressed against mine. My fingers tangle in

rages hotter, burning away

into my hair, yanking my head

lower abdomen in a way that makes my hips buck. He slides one jean–clad leg between mine, and I grind down immediately, groaning at the feel of rough, wet denim against my core. The friction