Draven.
“I’m sorry,” I breathed against her neck, the words half growl, half plea. “I should have done what’s right. Should have waited. But gods, Val—I can’t stand the thought of you hurting and me not being allowed to fix it.”
She shivered, body softening against mine even as her fingers curled into the arm I had wrapped around her waist.
“You can’t fix everything by touching me,” she whispered, but there was no real fight left in it—just raw need threading through the words.
“Maybe not.” I nipped lightly at her earlobe, then soothed the sting with my tongue. “But I can remind you that you’re mine. That I’m yours. And that nothing—nobody—changes that.”
My hand slid down the front of her shift, palm flattening over the firm curve of her belly. I spread my fingers wide, cradling the
