9. Poppy
NINE
POPPY
The moment their lips met, every coherent thought Poppy possessed evaporated into sensation.
His mouth moved against hers with a hunger that matched her own, and her lioness purred with primal satisfaction deep in her chest. The kiss was not gentle or tentative anymore, it was a claiming.
His tongue slid against hers and the taste of him sent heat spiraling through her veins as her hands fisted in his shirt, holding him to her as if he might disappear.
A distant, rational part of her mind screamed that this was a mistake and that she should stop. She was still angry with him, wasn't she? He'd humiliated her, upended her life, and created a political nightmare with a single, arrogant bid. Professional distance was the only sane path forward.
But the memory of last night—of him fighting beside her with brutal efficiency, of his careful hands cleaning her wound, then today—of waking up curled against his solid warmth after the first true rest she'd had in years—those memories were louder than the voice of caution.
The mate bond between them pulsed like a live wire, amplifying every touch and every shared breath. It didn't feel like a trap; it felt like a lifeline she hadn't known she needed.
Just once, her lioness insisted, the need a primal drumbeat in her blood. Claim him. Let him claim you. Just this once.
Poppy broke the kiss, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She didn't speak. Words would shatter the spell, would let logic back in. Instead, she rose from the bed, her movements deliberate. Keiro's molten gold eyes watched her, confusion flickering across his face.
She reached for the buttons of her practical blouse, and her fingers, usually so steady, trembled slightly. The soft cotton parted, and she let the garment slide from her shoulders, mindful of the bandage on her wound. The cool air kissed her skin, but it was his gaze that burned.
Next, she unclasped her simple lace bra, and it fell away, leaving her standing bare from the waist up before him. His sharp inhale was the only sound in the room. The confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, possessive hunger so intense it stole her breath.
He stood in one fluid motion, his own hands going to the hem of his torn shirt. "Tell me this is what you want," he said, his voice a rough scrape of sound.
She answered by pushing her leggings and panties down her hips, stepping out of them until she was completely bare before him. The vulnerability was terrifying and exhilarating.
She closed the distance between them, her hands moving to the fastening of his slacks. "Your turn."
He remained statue-still, allowing her to undress him. Her fingers brushed against the warm skin of his abdomen, and she felt the muscles contract beneath her touch. She pushed the ruined fabric of his slacks down his powerful thighs, followed by his boxers, until he stood as exposed as she was.
They had seen each other naked last night—bloody, battered, and exhausted from battle.
But this was different. This was a deliberate unveiling.
The morning light carved the planes of his body into sharp relief—the broad shoulders, the defined chest scattered with the bandages from their fight, the ridged abdomen, and the clear evidence of his desire for her.
He was magnificent, a study of predatory power held in check by sheer will.
Mine.
"Are you absolutely sure?" The question was gritted out from his throat, a final concession to his control.
"I just need to be close to you right now," she whispered, the admission feeling both dangerous and true.
He didn't ask for clarification. He didn't demand promises. His wolf seemed to understand the temporary sanctuary her lioness was seeking. He simply nodded, a single, sharp dip of his chin.
Before she could second-guess herself, he swept her into his arms and laid her back against the cool sheets.
Then he followed her down, his body a warm, heavy weight that felt like safety and sin all at once.
His mouth found her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin where her pulse hammered, while one broad hand came up to cup her breast. His thumb swept over her nipple, and a sharp gasp tore from her throat.
"So responsive," he murmured against her skin, the words vibrating through her.
His mouth soon trailed lower, replacing his hand.
He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, his tongue and teeth drawing sensations so sharp and sweet they made her head spin.
Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, and her back arched off the mattress, seeking more.
The mate bond flared bright, and she could feel the echo of his own desperate need through the connection—a feedback loop of desire that left her breathless.
He moved down her body with deliberate slowness, his lips and hands mapping every inch of her. He kissed the plane of her stomach, the curve of her hip, the inside of her thighs. By the time he settled between her legs, she was trembling, already wet and aching for him.
The first touch of his tongue to her sensitive folds was electric, and Poppy cried out, her hands flying to tangle in his dark hair.
His tongue moved with an instinctual knowledge that made her wonder if the mate bond was guiding him, telling him exactly how to undo her.
Because he didn't just taste her, he worshipped her.
"Keiro…" His name was a plea and a prayer.
He growled in response, the sound vibrating against her most intimate skin. The pressure soon built and he must have sensed it, because he began sucking her clit and sliding two fingers deep inside her.
Within seconds, the dual sensation shattered her.
Her orgasm ripped through her with the force of a summer storm—violent, blinding, and utterly consuming.
Her entire body convulsed and a raw cry tore from her throat as her inner walls clenched rhythmically around his fingers.
Pleasure radiated out in waves, leaving her gasping and her body rippling with aftershocks.
But he didn't stop until he drew out every last tremor, until she was spent and sensitive, floating in a haze of sensation.
As she lay there with her heart hammering and trying to catch her breath, one truth crystallized in the aftermath.
No one had ever made her feel like that. No one had ever seen her so completely vulnerable or handled her with such a devastating combination of reverence and raw possession. And instead of it terrifying her at that moment, she only wanted more of him.
As the aftershocks of her climax still pulsed through her, a rational voice, the one that had steered her through eleven years of lonely leadership, screamed that this was the moment to stop.
She had the temporary comfort she'd sought.
To go further was to invite the mate bond to deepen, to risk the permanent marking her lioness was already clamoring for.
But her body had other ideas. A deeper, more insistent hunger had taken root.
It wasn't just about comfort anymore; it was about possession.
She needed to feel the weight of him and the solid, undeniable proof of their connection.
Not a marking, not yet—she couldn't, the political fallout would be a wildfire—but a claiming her lioness would recognize in the moment.
Her hands, which had been gripping the sheets, slid down to his arms and she pulled him up her body with a strength that made his eyes flash molten gold.
Then he moved, fluid and powerful, caging her beneath him.
His hard cock pressed against her thigh, a blunt promise that made her breath hitch and her lioness purr in anticipation.
She broke their gaze, her body flushing with heat, and she reached between their bodies.
Her fingers trailed down his abdomen until they finally wrapped around his hard cock, and he groaned, a raw, ragged sound tearing from his throat.
Then she guided him to her slick, waiting entrance as she met his eyes again.
"I need you inside me. Right now." It wasn't a request. It was a demand from one Alpha to another.
He didn't hesitate. He didn't ask for permission she'd already given.
With a control that made her want to scream, he pushed forward, inch by agonizing inch.
He was large, devastatingly so, but her body welcomed him with a shocking ease that felt like destiny itself.
There was no pain, only a profound sense of rightness, as if a part of her that had been hollow for years had suddenly been filled.
A low, approving moan vibrated in her throat as her legs locked around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back. Then her hands gripped the powerful muscles of his shoulders, holding on as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world.
"Move, Keiro," she commanded, her voice husky with need.
He obeyed willingly. His first thrust was slow, a deliberate, maddening withdrawal that left her empty before he filled her completely again, hitting a spot deep within that drew a sharp gasp from her lips.
The mate bond, which had been a steady hum in her blood minutes before, became a scream.
It wasn't just her pleasure she felt anymore; it was also the echo of his—the fierce, possessive satisfaction of his wolf.
The feedback loop was intoxicating and overwhelming, driving her to madness.
"Faster," she panted, arching beneath him. "Don't hold back. I want all of you right now."
A growl tore from his throat, the last vestige of his control snapping. His rhythm changed, becoming harder, deeper, and more relentless. The force of his thrusts drove the air from her lungs, each one a perfect, primal punctuation to the symphony of their joining. Her lioness roared in triumph.
This. This was what she needed. Her mate giving her exactly what she craved.