The sound of Willow's moan shattered the last of Dorian's restraint like glass breaking under pressure.
He pulled her against him, his hands gripping her waist as he continued exploring her neck with desperate intensity.
Every kiss he planted on her soft skin drew another breathy sound from her lips, and he found himself responding with low growls of his own that vibrated through his chest.
She was so small in his arms, so delicate, yet she pressed against him with surprising eagerness.
Her initial fear had transformed into something else entirely. A hunger that matched his own. Her hands, which had been gripping his shirt, now roamed across his shoulders and into his hair, pulling him closer as if she couldn't get enough of his touch.
"Dorian," She whispered his name against his ear, and hearing it from her lips, without his title, without the formal distance that should exist between them, made something primal surge through him.
