I woke to the feeling of lips trailing down my spine.

Hot, open-mouthed kisses. Each one pulled me from sleep into a haze of pleasure, the mate bond humming between us.

“Dante,” I murmured, still half-asleep.

“Shh.” His voice was rough, still thick with sleep and want. “Just let me worship you.”

His hands followed his mouth, large and warm, mapping every curve, every dip. When his fingers traced the silvery scars on my back, the ones from the whipping, his touch turned ...