I stepped forward and ran my fingertips down his spine. His back flexed. When I kept going, brushing over his sculpted ass, continuing down and under until I cupped the base of his erection from underneath, he lowered his head. Curled his hands into fists on the wall. Fought for control.

A liquid warmth pooled between my legs as I fondled him from behind. I stepped closer, molded myself to the curve of his back, and reached around to take him into my other hand.

“Fuck,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper.

Blood pumped beneath my grip as I stroked, my fingers unable to encompass his erection completely. It stood rock hard, throbbing beneath my touch, a fact that gave me a heady sense of power. To have him so responsive to my every embrace, my every caress. I raked my fingernails over the length of him. He groaned through clenched teeth, his voice a husky shell of the original. It was suddenly a fragile thing. Brittle. Breakable.

I began to stroke more rhythmically, kneading the base with my other hand, reveling in his reaction.

“Dutch,” he said. The hoarseness of his voice was almost as sexy as the man himself. “Wait.”

But I didn’t. I pushed him to the edge, to the brink of orgasm, because I could feel it, too. As though I were being seduced, I felt the rush of heat in my loins, the sting of ecstasy spread through my body. Wanting more, I knelt, turned his hips, and took hold of him from the front, readying him for my mouth, but he gripped my arms and jerked me up, locking me against his chest.

“This is not behaving!” I cried out in protest.

He ignored me, buried his face in the crook of my neck, and walked me back until we found the bed. Then he pulled me up and crawled onto it, laying me down and pressing into me. He immediately went to work on my jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them off my hips, down my legs as he trailed tiny kisses along my neck. I kicked off my boots and managed the removal of my pants as he lifted my sweater over my head. Then, with the deftness of a seasoned rake, he unfastened my bra in record time and freed Danger and Will. Cool air hit them, hardening their peaks, but it was immediately replaced with the heat radiating off my disobedient neighbor. He took them into his hands and covered Danger’s peak with his scorching mouth. I almost cried out as his blistering tongue circled and coaxed. He sucked softly and a sharp spike of arousal shot through me, like a string tugging from there to my stomach had been tightened and strummed. He gave Will the same attention and I wrapped my arms around his head, writhing in the sensations pulsating through me.

Then he stopped. I opened my eyes as he lifted his head and gazed down at me.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“You’re not minding very well.” I drew my brows together, chastising him, not that I really cared at that point.

His lips parted, his breathing still labored. “But do you trust me?”

I caved. “Yes. Fine. I do.” I wanted to add words like implicitly and inexorably and for the love of god please make me come, but I kept them at bay.

He lay propped on his elbows, his face a picture of seriousness as he studied me. Then he cradled my head in his hands and started the stroking thing again. The one where he rubbed my temples with his thumbs and I relaxed straightaway, just as before.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

I did so hesitantly.

“Relax and let me in,” he said.

His touch was mesmerizing, his thumbs circling softly until I melted, giving myself over to him completely. Then I felt it. A gentle nudge in my mind. A parting in the folds of reality. An inaudible voice came to me, spoke to me in a foreign language. It took me a moment to identify it. Ancient Aramaic.

“May I enter you?” it asked, and I recognized Reyes’s voice, the soft accent, the deep timbre reverberating in my mind. He was speaking to me on another level, on a visceral, psychic level. And he wanted in.

I was so fascinated with what he was doing, how he was speaking to me, I didn’t answer him at first.

“Dutch,” he said, the voice growing clearer, the nudge growing more insistent, “may I enter you?”

I responded in kind, mentally and in Ancient Aramaic. “Yes.”

In an instant, he sent his essence inside me, penetrating not only my mind but every molecule in my body. I felt soft tendrils of pleasure lace down my spine, curl into my abdomen, settle around my heart. As though a sensual smoke had entered me, my skin began to respond. It tingled and tightened until it felt too small for my body. My blood began to boil. The crests of Danger and Will hardened as a prickling hunger spiraled and nipped. My muscles contracted and released with sensuality. Hot ribbons of ecstasy spread through me.

The probing grew harder, more demanding, as it pooled at the apex between my legs and swelled inside me. Then it moved, pulsated, bucked, and milked me closer to the edge. Scorching, pulsing waves rocked inside me, bathed me in sweet, unimaginable heat. Reyes locked me in his arms, then nudged with his mind again, sending the sensations deeper, harder, faster. Anticipation throbbed between my legs until I could take no more. I needed his flesh inside mine.

“Rey’aziel,” I said from between clenched teeth, writhing beneath him. I sank my fingernails into his back. “I order you.”

He buried his fingers in my hair, spread my legs with his hips, and entered me in one long thrust. I gasped aloud as the swell of orgasm crested and rushed over me like a whirlwind of liquid fire. That was all it took. One thrust. One piercing impalement to unleash the storm.

I cried out but Reyes’s mouth came down on mine as he embedded himself farther inside me. Then he pulled out, trailing kisses to my ear, clutching the inside of a thigh to hold me wide, and plunged into me again and again until the crest reappeared. I clawed at him, urged him deeper, reveled in his pleasure.