Megara

May I?

His silver eyes burn into mine, the heat of his gaze almost tangible in the dimly lit room as he waits for my answer.

I nod, not trusting my voice. My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure he can hear it. This is really happening. Raze, the man—the fallen angel—I've been dreaming of for months, who saved my life and accidentally forged a bond between us, is about to touch me in ways I've only ever dreamed of.

When his lips meet mine, the world tilts on its axis. This kiss is different from our first. There's a tenderness to it, a gentleness that contrasts with the raw hunger I saw in his eyes moments ago. His lips move against mine with a slow, deliberate pressure, as if he's savouring the moment.

I sigh, my body melting into his, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. Opening up to him, I welcome the invasion, the taste of him flooding my senses. It's intoxicating.

Addictive.

His hands cup my face, holding me gently, his thumbs stroking my cheeks with a touch that sends shivers of pleasure down my spine to pool low in my belly. He's warm, so warm, and the scent of him fills my nostrils, making me dizzy.

It's so different from the awkward kisses I've experienced before. A few fumbling attempts in the shadows of the schoolyard when I was younger. This is not the same. Not even close. This is fire and lightning, a storm of sensation that threatens to consume me, body and soul.

Slowly, Raze lowers me back onto the bed, his body covering mine. The weight of him, the heat of him against my bare skin, is exquisite. Maybe I should feel scared being alone with a man this powerful, this dangerous, but I've never felt so alive.

I don't know how long we kiss, how long he devours me with his mouth and lips, but the world falls away and nothing matters but this moment. This. Us. The way my body yearns for more. For him.

With kissing alone, he already has me feeling more than I ever have when exploring myself, and when he slants his mouth to deepen the kiss even further, as if he can't get enough either, a moan escapes me and I dig my fingers into his soft hair.

He pulls back slightly, his gaze searching mine as if looking for something. An answer? His fingers curl at my cheek, his touch almost hesitant, as if he's afraid to break me.

"Raze..." I whisper, my voice trembling with barely contained need. "It's okay. You can touch me." I might combust if you don't.

Another moment passes before he captures my lips again. He slides a hand down my arm, his fingers tracing the delicate bones of my wrist, and the sensitive skin on the inside of my elbow. I gasp, surprised by the intensity of the sensation, the way his touch sends a jolt of electricity through my entire body. It's like nothing I've ever felt before.

Dragging his mouth down my neck, he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. His lips brush across the sensitive skin just above my collarbone, and I shiver as a wave of anticipation washes over me.

"So responsive," he murmurs against me, his voice a low rumble that makes my breath hitch. He almost sounds surprised and...awed?

He continues his exploration, his fingers trailing a slow, agonising path over my ribcage until he reaches the swell of my breasts. When he brushes his thumb over a nipple, sending a wave of heat straight to my core, I moan. No one has touched me like this before, and it's so much more than I imagined.

Lifting his head, his silver eyes blazing with desire, and my breath hitches. "How does that feel?" he asks huskily.

All I can do is nod, too distracted by the new awareness thrumming through my body.

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates against my skin, but there's a strained edge to it as if he's holding back. But before I can question him, his hand moves to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, his fingers teasing my nipple, drawing out soft moans of pleasure. I press against him, wanting his full weight on me, but he shifts slightly, putting a fraction of distance between us.

A flicker of disappointment burns in my chest, but his hand moves to my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. It's a subtle reminder that he might not be as in control as he likes to portray.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.

His touch sends shivers of pleasure through me that spiral lower, tightening the coil of need in my belly. I want more. I need more. But even as the desire builds, I sense him holding back. There are slight pauses in his touches, hesitations in his movements, as if he's constantly fighting against an invisible force.

"Raze," I whisper, tugging on his hair to get his attention. "What is it? Something is wrong, I can tell."

Something fierce and possessive flashes in his gaze, and for a moment, I see the struggle there. The war between his desire and his iron control. He's definitely holding back. It's not just my imagination.

"You test my restraint, pet." He rests his forehead against mine. "I am not my brother. Luce has the patience of a saint and incredible self-control. I...don't. I fear I cannot be as gentle as you deserve."

"I trust you." My hand cups his cheek. "I want this, Raze. I want you. All of you. I'm not afraid."

He closes his eyes and leans into my touch for a moment. Then, with a shuddering breath, he captures my lips once more, the kiss deep and demanding, full of barely leashed hunger.

His groan, low and guttural, vibrates against me. Cupping the back of my head, he deepens the kiss, the urgency of his touch mirroring my own.

The air crackles with raw energy, a palpable tension that has been building for weeks. Months. My senses are overwhelmed by him—the musky scent of his cologne, the rough scrape of his stubble against my skin, the taste of him, dark and intoxicating.

"Meg," he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

His hand moves back down to my breast, and I shiver under his touch, craving more. Grazing my nipple with his palm, he sends a jolt of need straight to my core. My fingers dig into the hard muscles of his back, and I pull him closer. I need him. Want him.

"You feel so good." His voice is a dark caress against my skin. "So soft."

His fingers tease the sensitive peak, circling it slowly, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through me. It's exquisite torture. I want him to touch me everywhere. To explore every inch of my body with those knowing hands, those hungry lips. But he takes his time, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he's savouring every moment, every reaction.

Kissing a trail down my chest, his tongue traces the curve of my ribcage, the hollow beneath my collarbone. I arch into him, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he reaches my breast and replaces his fingers with his kisses. His lips are warm and soft as his tongue swirls around my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. I gasp, my back arching instinctively as a wave of heat floods through me. It's a sensation unlike anything I've ever experienced and liquid heat pools between my thighs.

A moan wrestles from my lips, a keening sound I barely recognise.

Raze lifts his head, his silver eyes burning into mine. "Too much?"

I shake my head, my answer stuck in my throat. But it's not too much. It's not enough. I want more. I want everything.

He seems to understand. Sliding his hand lower, he traces the curve of my hipbone. My skin tingles with anticipation, every nerve ending alight with a fire that only he can quench.

Dipping his hand between my legs, his touch is light and teasing as he explores the sensitive flesh. I bite my lower lip, my body trembling from the force of the heightened sensations, the pleasure building with each stroke, each caress.

Leaning in, his lips brush against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Relax, pet," he whispers. "Let me take care of you."

I close my eyes, surrendering to his touch, trusting him to guide me through this uncharted territory. The feeling is so foreign, nothing like when I touch myself. He moves with a practised skill, his fingers circling, teasing, finding the places that make me gasp, that make me arch into his touch, that make me cry out.

The coil in my belly is so tight I almost can't bear it, pulling me closer and closer to the edge, and I clutch at Raze's shoulders, my nails digging into his shirt. He groans, the sound low and primal.

And then, I'm falling, crashing through the orgasm as waves of pleasure consume me. It's intense, exhilarating...and wild. There's a raw edge to it that's both terrifying and intoxicating. Nothing like the controlled, solitary releases I've experienced on my own. This is something else. Something more.

As my body trembles in the aftermath and the world slowly comes back into focus, I realise that I'm not just physically entangled with Raze. My heart feels as if caught in his grasp too.

At that moment, I know I'm in trouble.

My body aches with a delicious weariness, a sense of satisfaction I've never known. But beneath the physical pleasure, confusion niggles at the back of my mind. A tide of unfamiliar emotions I don't know how to navigate is boarded up behind a wall that is already tilting precariously.

Raze shifts beside me, his warmth a comforting presence against my still-tingling skin. I half expect him to vanish, to retreat into the shadows like he's done so many times before. But he's still here, his arm draped loosely over my waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip.

"Meg?" His voice is a husky murmur against my ear, sending goosebumps over my already sensitised skin.

I don't immediately answer, my heart still pounding wildly in my chest. I'm afraid to speak, afraid to break the fragile spell woven around us. Afraid of what I might say. Might reveal.

"Look at me." His hand cups my chin, gently tilting my head up so our gazes meet. His eyes, usually so intense, so guarded, are softer now, clouded with a tenderness that makes my breath catch. "Are you all right?"

I nod, but the movement feels clumsy and unconvincing. Because I'm not all right. I'm...everything. Confused. Excited. Terrified.

And most of all...I'm falling. Falling for him. For the darkness and the light that war within him. For the man who makes me feel things I never thought possible.

"Meg," he says again. "Talk to me."

Biting my lip, I struggle to find the right words. "It was..." I hesitate, then blurt out, "It was amazing."

Too amazing. I suspect no other man will live up to this. And all he did was touch me. We haven't even had sex. I swallow hard at the thought of doing that with this brooding fallen angel. Not because I'm scared to, but because of how desperately I want to.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. How can I keep this purely physical when all I want is to throw myself in his arms and hold on to him forever?

"So I didn't hurt you?"

His question surprises me, and my eyes widen. I would laugh if he wasn't watching me so intently...if the line between his brows was not so deep. But I still can't quite hide the tug on the corners of my mouth as I shake my head.

"No, Raze. You didn't hurt me." I can't hold the grin back. "Far from it. Did you..." Hesitating, I reach up to smooth the deepening line between his brows with my thumb.

"Did I what?" he asks when I don't continue.

Coming down from the high of my recent orgasm, I'm feeling self-conscious about the fact that I'm still completely naked while he's fully clothed next to me. I try to tug on the covers, but our weight on them makes it impossible.

"Meg?" Noticing my frantic tugging, he sits up and pulls off his t-shirt and hands it to me.

As I take it, my eyes widen, taking in the sight of Raze's bare torso for the first time. He's like a marble statue, his smooth skin stretched taut over the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. A few scars mar the otherwise unblemished skin. Faint silver lines that speak of wounds too deep for even his angelic healing to completely erase.

I'm struck by the sheer beauty of him, the raw power and grace in every line. He's lean and muscular, his shoulders broad, his waist narrow. It's a body built for battle, for fighting.

He silently observes me watching him, his eyes guarded, as if he's waiting for me to recoil from the sight of him. As if I ever could.

Tentatively, I reach out, my fingers grazing the largest of the scars. A jagged line that runs from his collarbone to the centre of his chest. He inhales sharply at my touch, his muscles tensing, but he doesn't pull away.

Emboldened, I explore further, tracing the ridges and valleys of his abdomen, feeling the way he quivers under my touch. His eyes drift shut and his jaw clenches as if he's fighting for control.

"Meg..." My name is both a warning and a plea on his lips.

My hand stills on his chest, right over his heart. It's racing under my palm, betraying the effect my touch is having on him.

"Does it bother you?" I ask softly, ready to pull away if he asks me to.

He shakes his head, opening his eyes to meet mine. There's a heat in them, a dark hunger that reignites my own.

"No, I'm just...not used to it. It's been a long time since someone touched me with such gentleness."

Something about his tone makes my throat close up. How harsh has his life been if a simple touch like this is so foreign to him? Slowly, giving him every chance to stop me, I lean forward and press a soft kiss to the scar I was tracing. I feel him shudder beneath my lips and hear the hitch in his breath.

"What..." He stops and clears his throat. "What were you going to ask me earlier?"

Pulling back, I finally slip the shirt over my head. The soft fabric smells just like Raze. A heady mix of leather and spice. Of him. I breathe it in and wrap myself in his scent. It feels strangely intimate, wearing his shirt like this.

"Thank you," I murmur.

He nods, his gaze roaming over me, taking in the sight of me in his clothes. There's a possessiveness there, a hunger that makes me shiver.

"Your question, Meg?" It's almost a growl, and it sends a thrill through me.

I hesitate, biting my lip. The question has nagged me since we shared this intimate moment, but I feel silly for asking. I want to know, though. I've heard about it from Cass, but never fully understood exactly how it happens. Or how it is meant to feel.

"Did you skim from me?"