Chapter 33

Alistair’s POV

I closed my eyes as her soft breath brushed across my face, and I noticed her plump lips parting in a gentle sigh. For a split second, I wondered if she was silently consenting to a kiss. Then reality nudged me: of course she wasn’t. I just had that effect on women. Always did. My pulse throbbed with desire, but I knew better than to misread the moment.

I fought the urge to lean in, to taste her lips, to lose myself in the warmth of her skin. Instead, I forced myself to shift, resting my head against her shoulder. Yet even that small concession felt like torture, because it brought the nape of her neck so tantalizingly close. I couldn’t stop imagining all the things I wanted to do there—each thought inflamed my senses more fiercely than the last. My nerves clenched, my blood raced, and a low moan threatened to slip free.

When would I ever hear her speak my name the way I wanted to hear it? The words echoed in my mind: “Harder, Alistair.” I pic