He carried her to the bedroom, but didn't lay her on the bed. Instead, he stood her before him, his hands framing her face. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated in her bones. "This isn't just sex, Addy. This is a claiming. And I need you to know it." His thumb brushed her lower lip, his eyes holding hers captive as he waited—not for permission, but for her surrender to the truth of what was already happening.
Her breath hitched. The air in the room was still, thick with the scent of him—clean sweat and something wild, like pine and damp earth. She was bare from the waist up, the cool air raising goosebumps on her skin, but where his palms cradled her jaw, she burned. His blue eyes were a storm, fixed on hers with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. She couldn't look away. She didn't want to.
"Tell me you understand," he said, the words rough, almost pained.
She tried to speak, but her throat was tight. All she could manage was a shaky nod. Her body understood. The deep, aching throb between her legs understood. The way her nipples tightened painfully against the lace of her bra understood. This was different. It had always been different with him.
Isaac’s gaze dropped to her mouth, then swept slowly back up. His thumbs stroked the line of her cheekbones, a gesture so tender it contradicted the possessive fire in his eyes. "Good," he murmured. He leaned in, his lips hovering a breath from hers. "Now feel it."
He didn't kiss her. He lowered his head and pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat, right over the frantic pulse there. His teeth grazed her skin, not biting, but testing. A promise. A threat. A hot, liquid shudder ripped through her, and a soft, broken sound escaped her lips. Her hands came up, fingers tangling in the soft blond hair at the nape of his neck, holding on as her knees went weak. This was the surrender. And it was terrifying. And it was everything.
Isaac’s mouth left her throat, his breath hot against her damp skin. “On your knees,” he said, the command leaving no room for question, only the raw expectation of obedience. His hands moved from her face to her shoulders, applying firm, guiding pressure downward. Addy’s body complied before her mind could protest, her knees meeting the worn carpet beside his bed, the rough fibers biting into her skin. She looked up, her hazel eyes wide, her breath coming in shallow pants as he unbuckled his belt with a sharp, metallic rasp.
The denim and boxers were pushed down just enough, and his cock sprang free, fully hard and thick, the head already glistening. He fisted himself, stroking once, his blue eyes locked on her upturned face. “Open your mouth.” She did, her tongue touching her bottom lip. He guided himself past her lips, not letting her take him deep, just resting the heavy weight on her tongue. “Good girl,” he growled, his hips giving a shallow thrust. “Now watch.” He pulled back, his hand working his length in a tight, urgent rhythm, his gaze never leaving hers. The muscles in his forearm corded, his breath turned ragged, and with a low, guttural sound, he came. Thick, hot stripes landed across her cheek, her lips, her chin. The scent of him, salt and musk, filled the air. She flinched, but didn’t look away.
He was still for a moment, his chest heaving, studying his work on her skin. Then his thumb came up, smearing a streak of his release across her bottom lip. “Mine,” he stated, the word final and absolute. He tucked himself away, fastening his jeans with deliberate movements before reaching down. His hands hooked under her arms, lifting her from the floor as if she weighed nothing. He turned her and laid her back on the rumpled sheets, her bare shoulders sinking into the cotton. He loomed over her, bracing himself on his arms, his expression unreadable. “The claiming isn’t finished,” he said, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “It’s just begun.”
Addy lay beneath him, the wet heat on her face cooling in the air. The act had been degrading, and yet a treacherous, liquid heat pooled between her own thighs, her body clenching with empty need. She was marked. She was his. The thought should have terrified her, and it did, but the terror was tangled with a dark, undeniable thrill. She reached up, her fingers trembling, not to wipe her face, but to touch the dampness on her cheek.
Isaac caught her wrist, pinning it gently but firmly to the mattress beside her head. “Leave it.” He lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “I want to see it on you while I take the rest of you.” His other hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, and found the button of her jeans. The pop of the fastener was loud in the quiet room. “This is the ritual, Addy. You don’t get to hide from any part of it.”