The first thing Sineka became aware of was heat.
Not the distant warmth of the sun filtering through the sheer curtains, nor the faint crackle of the fireplace left smoldering overnight. No—this heat was far more immediate. Far more dangerous.
It was him.
Crocodile.
Solid. Heavy. Overwhelming.
His body was pressed against her back, one arm draped across her waist in a hold that was more possession than embrace. His breath, slow and steady, ghosted against her shoulder, a warm cadence that matched the deep, measured rise and fall of his chest against her spine.
And his hands—
Sineka's breath caught in her throat.
The bastard was touching her.
Not idly. Not by accident.
No—his fingers moved with purpose. Slow, deliberate. Mapping the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist. One broad hand splayed low across her stomach, fingertips pressing just below her navel, as though reminding her of his claim even in sleep.
But he wasn't asleep.
She knew it before the faintest inhale stirred the air against her shoulder blade—before the slow exhale that followed, lips grazing her bare skin with an unspoken intention.
Awake.
Of course, he was.
Sineka's thighs pressed together instinctively, her body already betraying her before she could form a single coherent thought. Heat coiled low and deep, her pulse beating too fast beneath the deliberate press of his hand.
Damn him.
Damn the way her body remembered the night before—the rough drag of his mouth against her skin, the low growl of her name between her gasping breaths.
The warmth of his hand shifted, fingers curling slightly as his thumb grazed the line of her hip bone.
A tease. A test.
Her pulse spiked.
"You're awake." His voice rumbled low and rough against her back—gravel and silk, indulgent in its own amusement.
Sineka inhaled sharply, half tempted to elbow him.
"You're groping me."
A deep chuckle vibrated against her spine, slow and satisfied.
His hand slid lower.
Sineka snatched his wrist before he could go any further.
Crocodile only chuckled again, richer this time, his breath warm against her shoulder.
"You didn't seem to mind last night."
Heat burned beneath her skin. She tightened her grip on his wrist and turned her head just enough to glare at him over her shoulder.
"That was last night. This is—"
A slow roll of his hips cut her off, the deliberate pressure of hard muscle against the curve of her backside stealing every coherent thought from her mind.
Her breath hitched.
Crocodile smirked against her shoulder, his mouth trailing lazily along her skin, the barest graze of teeth just below the curve of her neck.
"Morning."
The bastard.
Sineka gritted her teeth, willing herself to ignore the slow burn of desire curling low in her stomach, the way her legs had parted slightly without permission, the way her pulse betrayed her beneath his hands.
YOU ARE READING
A Bride for the Desert King | Crocodile
Fanfiction"Marry me," she commanded, almost. Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the impertinence of the woman who stood in front of him. "Ara," he heard Ms All Sunday mutter amusedly. "Who are you?" "Sineka Duskblade," she replied.
