Maisie
My fangs crazed his vein and Mercer hissed, wrenching me back with a fist tight in my hair.
"We can't," he panted, eyes black with hunger. His hand left mine to tip my chin possessively when I went in for neck again, and he pinned me there effectively.
The veins in his neck were starker, and I saw it in his eyes. The war. Touch. Don't touch. Fuck. Don't fucking fuck her.
My chest expanded on an inhale as his thumb moved from my chin to my lower lip, tugging it down. "We can't," he repeated, but it was a weak murmur, his cheeks flushing as he pushed his thumb past my lips and into my mouth.
Instinctively, my tongue darted out to lick the salt off the pad of his finger. And I sucked.
His answering growl vibrated through every nerve ending. And then, his mouth replaced his thumb, and he was kissing me.
Gods, yes.
