I push myself up on my hands and look down at him.
God.
His chest is broad. Sculpted. The kind of muscles that come from years of discipline, not vanity. His shoulders are wide enough to block out the world. His arms are thick.
The scars don't diminish him. They add to him. Battle marks on a warrior's body.
I want to trace every line of muscle with my tongue.
I want to climb on top of him and never get off.
I drag my gaze down his chest to his stomach. The ridges of his abs. The V of muscle.
His cock is still hard. Straining against his open pants.
I want him inside me.
I've never wanted anything this badly in my life.
I hover over him. My knees on either side of his hips. My hands planted on the mattress beside his head.
His eyes burn up at me.
I lower my mouth to his.
The kiss starts slow. Soft. His lips move against mine with a gentleness that surprises me. His hand comes up to cup the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair.
Then his tongue slides against mine.
The gentleness disappears.
He kisses me like he's starving. Like I'm the only thing that can save him. His other hand grips my hip, pulling me down against him.
I gasp into his mouth.
The hard length of him presses against my center.
I pull back. My breathing is ragged. My heart pounds against my ribs.
"Wait." I sit up, straddling his thighs. "Do you have a condom?"
Bruno's jaw tightens.
His hand wraps around my wrist. He pulls me down until my chest presses against his. Until our faces are inches apart.
"I'm clean," he says. "I've been tested. Multiple times."
"Bruno—"
"You're clean too." His eyes hold mine. "I had you checked when you arrived at the compound."
I should be angry about that. About him having me tested without my knowledge or consent.
I'm not.
"Condoms," Bruno continues, his voice dropping lower, "are the only thing that won't be inside you while I'm fucking you."
Heat floods through me.