"Holland, I don't think you're being yourself right now," Kastiel said, voice strained as he tried to push me back a step.
My body refused to cooperate. Heat pulsed under my skin like liquid fire, making every inch of me ache for contact.
"It doesn't matter," I breathed, pressing closer. "I want you inside me right now."
"Holland, you're in heat. We can't possibly do it." He was trying so hard to sound reasonable, but his grip on my wrists trembled. "Anything could happen."
"It doesn't matter." I leaned in and kissed his neck—slow, open-mouthed, tasting salt and alpha musk. He immediately caught both my hands behind my back, pinning them there because I'd been clawing at his shirt, trying to yank it off while simultaneously tugging at my own clothes. Fabric felt like torture against fever-hot skin.
