“Chris,” I repeat.
Something breaks behind his eyes when I say his name aloud. The restraint he's been white-knuckling snaps, and his mouth crashes over mine.
This kiss is nothing like the ones at the bonfire. Those were testing, exploring—fun and playful. This one claims. His tongue sweeps past my lips, and I open for him, tasting beer and heat and hunger. His hand in my hair tilts my head, angling me where he wants me, and the dominance of it makes the blood in my veins hum.
He rolls us so I'm on my back and he's above me, bracing his weight on one forearm while his free hand slides down my side—ribs, waist, hip. His fingers find the hem of my shirt and slip beneath, and the contact of his rough palm against my bare stomach makes me gasp into his mouth.
"Tell me if anything's too much," he orders against my lips.
“Okay. Just don't stop."
He pulls my shirt over my head and tosses it. I'm in a plain cotton bra—nothing pretty, nothing lacy—but the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m draped in silk and diamonds. His eyes drag down my body, and the hunger in them steals the air from my lungs.
"Fucking gorgeous." The words come out guttural and reverent. His mouth follows his gaze—down my throat, across my collarbone, along the swell of my breasts above the cotton. His hand reaches beneath me, unhooking the bra in one motion and peeling it away. Cool air hits my nipples, and they tighten instantly.
His mouth closes over one, and the sensation rockets through me until my spine arches off the mattress—wet heat and pressure and the graze of his teeth. I grab his shoulders, my fingers digging into muscle.
"Zeus—"
"Christopher," he corrects, lifting his head. His eyes find mine—dark, serious. "When we're like this, I want you to call me Christopher."
The look in his gaze makes something flutter behind my ribs. "Christopher."
He groans at the sound of it and attacks my other breast, sucking hard enough to make me cry out. His hand travels lower—over my stomach, past the waistband of my jeans. He pops the button one-handed, drags the zipper down. His fingers slip inside, pressing against me through the thin cotton of my underwear, and I jolt.
"Soaked," he growls against my skin. "This wet little pussy—all for me?"
I can only moan in answer. His fingers move in slow, devastating circles, and pressure builds inside me—coiling tighter with each pass of his thumb over a spot that makes my vision go white at the edges. I squirm beneath him, chasing it, needing more.
He strips my jeans and underwear in one fluid pull. I'm naked beneath him while he's still fully clothed, and the imbalance should make me self-conscious. It doesn't.
"My turn." I tug at his shirt.
He sits back on his heels and yanks it over his head. The sight of him bare-chested—bronze skin, ripped abs, tattoos crawling across his shoulders and down his arms—makes my mouth go dry. He's carved from stone, a warrior's body built for violence and power.
He shoves his jeans down and off. When his cock springs free—thick, hard, and intimidating, my breath leaves me in a rush. He's big. Very big.
He reaches for his jeans on the floor, pulls a foil packet from the wallet in his back pocket, and rolls the condom on.
Then he's back over me, settling between my thighs, one hand bracing beside my head, the other gripping my hip. The blunt head of him presses against my entrance, and my whole body vibrates with anticipation and a thread of nervousness.
"Eyes on me," he commands.
I obey. His gaze locks onto mine—burning, possessive, tender all at once.
He pushes forward. One inch, and I feel the stretch—foreign and intense. He watches my face, reading every micro-expression.
Another inch. The pressure increases, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.
He freezes.
His eyes widen a fraction. I see the exact moment realization hits—the tightness, the resistance, the way my body is yielding to something it's never yielded to before.
"London." His voice is strained. Barely controlled. "Are you a?—"
“Yes. This is my… You’re my first.” I grip his forearms, holding him in place. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."
His jaw clenches so hard I can hear his teeth grind. His forehead drops to mine. A tremor runs through his arms.