“And what do you need?”

His teeth sunk into the flesh between my neck and shoulder, his tongue stealing the sting. “I can be completely myself. I can take everything you have to give.”

Words deserted me as he spun me around and captured my lips.

His taste slipped down my throat. His eagerness wrapped around my heart.

We only kissed for a moment.

But it felt as if we kissed forever.

Sliding, licking, tasting.

He swept me away from this dimension, guiding me to a different one—a more spiritual one where our hearts beat to the same rhythm and our desire thickened with every breath.

Walking me backward, his arms swooped down and hoisted me off my feet. I gasped at his power, kissing him harder. Instinctually, I wrapped my legs around his hips. He groaned as my pussy pressed against his straining erection.

Still kissing, he headed forward. Arms bunched, lips slippery, he marched me to the bed.

Then I was falling.

And he was falling with me.

The soft mattress cushioned me, while the hard demand of Jethro landed on top, squashing me with fervent need.

My lungs deflated; a small vertigo wave tried to steal the magic of the moment.

He chuckled. “I’ve gone dizzy from switching from vertical to horizontal.”

In that second, I loved him so much I might burst. “Now you know how I feel most days.”

He pulled back, brushing hair from my face. “Is it terrible? To have your brain work against you all the time?”

His question was so much deeper than just enquiring about my imbalance deficiency. It was a probe into how I coped—a mutual understanding of what it was like to have a condition rule your life. “I manage.”

“You manage better than me.”

I cupped his cheek. “Everyone has complications. Some harder than others.”

He smiled softly, pressing another kiss on my mouth. “Yes, but some of us are stronger than others.” His lips trailed to my ear. “And you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

His hand disappeared down my side, tugging at my t-shirt. I wriggled, helping him slip it over my head. I lay in just my knickers in the arms of the man who’d been given a task that would never come to pass.

Jethro would never kill me.

I knew that with utmost certainty.

He couldn’t because it would kill him, too.

His jaw locked, eyes devouring my naked chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

A prickle of sensitivity darted over my skin, centring in my core.

He ran his fingertip around my nipple, causing it to pebble. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Ever. Never let myself open to the pain it can cause.” His finger drifted down my sternum, moving toward my bellybutton. “I need you to know.” His finger coasted lower, dipping into the manicured curls between my legs. “I need you to know that I adore you. I worship you. I don’t just love you, Nila Weaver. I treasure you. I’ve never had anything so goddamn precious as you.”

My mouth fell open as he pressed a single finger inside me. Words flew from my mind as every part of me focused on his touch.

“I’m going to show you what it’s like in my world. Will you let me?” His finger slipped deeper, pressing against my inner walls.

I bit my lip, nodding. My eyes were heavy, body begging.

I was warm, content, and truly happy for the first time in my life.

I didn’t want to move or talk or do anything to burst this magical bubble.

Another finger entered me, stretching, coaxing, dragging me from needful to insane with desire.

“I’ll never be able to repay you for last night. I’ll never be worthy of what you’ve given me. But I’ll make it my life to repent and prove how fucking sorry I am for what I put you through.”

I opened my eyes. My heart clenched at the sublime beauty of the true Jethro. He blazed brightly in the softly lit room. His every thought and desire, his every fear and insecurity—it was all there for me to witness and wonder.

Never looking away, he withdrew his fingers and used the glistening digits to pull his t-shirt over his head. Shadows danced over his muscles, highlighting ropes of power in his forearms, chiselled planes of his stomach, and faint bruises on his ribcage.

His injuries from whatever fight he’d been in the night I found his room had healed and faded.

Sliding off the bed, he unbuckled his belt and eased the denim down his legs. Stepping free of the material, he didn’t hesitate pulling his boxer-briefs to the floor.

My mouth dried up at his naked perfection.

His cock hung heavy and hard between his legs. His hands opened and closed by his side self-consciously.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his incredible body. He was mine now. This insane specimen of a man was mine.

Lifting my hips, I shimmied free from my knickers, tossing them over the edge of the mattress. His eyes zeroed in on my exposed core. The smell of sex and musk filled my nose.

He smirked, slipping from intense to playful. “What we did before was the entrée to what I truly need. Taking you so quickly didn’t satisfy either of us. And I mean to satisfy you extremely well.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? What does ‘extremely satisfied’ entail?” I dropped my voice as a delicious thrill ran through my belly. “What are you going to do to me?”

He bent over and grabbed my ankles. “You’ll see.” His signature scent of woods and leather seemed stronger, more intoxicating as he pulled me down the bed. “Stay there.”