Cam glanced at my hand. “My T-shirt?”
“How it feels when I touch you. It makes me wonder how anything can be left undone between us.”
Cam arched a dark brow, a spark igniting in his gaze. “If you’re talking about sucking my dick, you need to stop. I’m never gonna ask you to do that, but thinking about it makes me fucking crazy.”
“Do you think about it a lot?”
“No.” Cam wrapped his inked fingers around my wrist, tugging my hand from his chest to pull me forward. “It’s not important.”
It wasn’t, and I had been grateful for that in the past. But we lived in the present and I was not the same man I’d been when we’d locked eyes in that Bristol bar so long ago. Cam and Saint had taught me to be someone who could kiss a man as powerful as Cam and feel nothing but want.
Nothing butmore.
Chest rumbling like a wolf, Cam held me against him and his tongue slid between my lips as easily as it had done the first time. As easily as it did with Saint, when he kissed him with such tenderness I could hardly bear to watch them. And yet, it was a rare day or night that I could stop.
Cam and I, though, without Saint to temper the rampaging current, the tenderness did not last. Untamed heat flared between us and we tore at each other with bruising hands, staggering with the force of it, falling onto the bed, Cam’s clothes finding their way to the floor.
He was stronger than me. I had accepted this. I enjoyed it. Iallowedit. There was nothing he could not do to me, though there remained things that he wouldn’t.
I rolled us over and pinned him to the bed. “Put your hand on my neck.”
He obliged, his fingers wrapping the column of my throat in a loose grip, one that would tighten if he gauged me willing.
Gaze locked with his, I guided that hand further back to cup the nape of my neck. “Push me down.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Do it.”
“No.”
“Do it.”
Candle-born shadows danced on the walls as Cam fought me with his dark stare. “You don’t have to do that—youneverhave to fucking do that.”
“I want to. I have for a long time now.”
His shoulders rose and fell with a shaky breath. “When did it shift for you?”
“The first time you dropped to your knees forme.”
“That was years ago.”
“I know. I held back because I did not want Saint to feel he was not giving enough. But things have changed for him too, no?”
“He tell you?”
I nudged Cam’s legs apart, making space for myself. “Not with words.”
“Telepathy?”
“Maybe. Push me down, biker boy. And do not be gentle.”
He did not make me ask again. His big hand settled into place and he guided me to where I wanted to be. To his waiting cock, only the second I had ever taken in my mouth by choice. I could not say if it was worth the wait for him, but for me it was a ritual I had come to count on with Saint, and I knew the moment Cam slid down my throat that it would be the same with him.
Do not be gentle.
He was not. But the panic I had felt with other men—men I had gone on to slaughter in return—it did not come. Consumed by Cam, I did not hear my heart thundering or my blood rushing in my ears. I did not taste my own blood on my lips. I did not want to kill him.