Made in Moonlight

Twenty-Five

The kiss is hot and everything I ever imagined.

My body feels like it's been set alight in the best way possible. If I thought his touch was exhilarating, his kiss is pure bliss.

His hands come up, grasping desperately at my face, and I melt into him.

The string between us glows. It shines like the moon itself is in the room with us.

We part and my head spins. He cups my face, his half-lidded eyes drifting from my lips to meet my gaze.

"Clover," he murmurs.

I love the way he says my name, but for once, I wish he'd just shut up.

I lean forward, our lips meeting in a frenzy. He groans into the kiss and the sound sends a vibration through me. Low in my stomach, desire pools. Reaching out, I lock my arms around him, dragging him closer, and closer.

I can't believe he deprived me of this for so long. I don't know how I'm going to stop.

Probably thinking the same thing, Blake leans away for a second. My heart dips, thinking this is all over, but he only breathes out heavily and shifts, standing.

I barely have time to blink before he's on top of me, lips pressing against mine.

He kisses me like he's dying of thirst, and I'm his water.

His hands can't seem to decide where they want to go. They drift from my face, down past my jaw, fingertips tracing my throat and collarbones.

When he moves to my shoulders, I hiss, the pain in my wound still fresh. Blake pulls away instantly, his eyes searching mine, concern riddled in them.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

I nod through a wince. "My shoulder."

Realization flashes through his face. "Right," he mutters. "I'll be more delicate."

His words make my stomach flip, and his lips are on mine again.

True to his word, his hands drift delicately over my arms. It amazes me how a man so...large, can be so gentle.

But while his touch is gentle, his mouth is not.

His teeth scrape my bottom lip and I gasp, his tongue darting into my mouth. My heart thunders in my chest as he kisses me. I don't want him to ever stop.

Slowly, his hands move lower, ghosting over the curves of my waist. His fingers stretch over my ribs, wrapping around me, holding me, like I'm his and he's mine.

Fingertips scraping the edges of my belly button, his lips follow the path down my body. He traces his mouth across the corner of my lips and down my jaw until he reaches that spot on my neck—his bite mark.

He places his mouth over it, and he sucks.

I inhale sharply, my body arching into his.

At my movement, Blake groans against my skin. His teeth rake over my neck and I shiver at the toe-curling feeling it sends through me.

He pulls away, his eyes dark as he meets my eye.

Lifting a hand, he presses it against my sternum, right where the string that connects us juts out from.

"Do you feel this?" he asks, his voice raspy. "Do you feel our bond?"

I nod frantically, desperate for him to kiss me again, to touch me—to do something.

But I also know exactly what he's talking about. I can feel his desire through our mate bond, only intensifying my want, my need. It's like electricity, moving across our silver string and rippling through my entire body.