With a growl, I swing the door closed. His boot catches the wood, then he’s pushing into my house. He slams the door behind him, locks it, and faces me.

 

My heart gallops, my darting gaze capturing him in ecstatic bursts like furious notes on a piano. Flushed cheekbones. Heaving chest. Twitching fingers. Eyes full of naked longing.

​

He’s a siren song of chaos and desire, so beautiful my conviction disperses like sea foam. I’m swept away.

​

“Evangeline,” he whispers.

​

We reach for each other at the same time. It happens fast but feels like slow motion. I’m waiting forever—I’ve waited forever—for his hands on my waist. They clench and lift me, slamming our chests together. My legs wind around his hips, my arms locking around his neck. Planting one hand on my ass, he sinks the other into my hair.

 

With a sharp tug, he angles my head and brings my mouth to his. So close I can feel the condensation of his breath.

​

“Kiss me, Fairy.”

​

It’s a plea. A prayer.

​

I can’t resist.