I’d forgotten what it felt like to dress this way. To want to.
For a second, his expression is unreadable. Then something dark and hungry flickers behind his eyes, and my breath catches.
The tension that’s been coiled tight between us for weeks snaps in an instant.
He strides across the distance between us. His hands find my waist, firm but careful, and pull me close until I can feel his heartbeat against mine.
He doesn’t wait for me to speak. Or, God forbid, to reach the bed. He just kisses me, deep and desperate, like he’s been starving for it.
So have I.
I melt into him. My hands brace against his chest. The warmth of him seeps through the thin fabric, grounds me even as my pulse races.
When his lips trail down my hips, I feel the hesitation. His touch changes. Lighter, almost hesitant.
“Petyr,” I whisper, and draw back just enough to meet his eyes.
He searches my face, voice low. “You’ll tell me if it hurts.”
It takes me a second to realize what he means. I smile, small but certain. “I’m fine.”
His brow furrows. “Sima?—”
“I’m fine,” I repeat, firmer this time. Then I slide my hands up his chest, curl my fingers around the back of his neck, and pull him closer. “You don’t have to worry about breaking me.” A grin teases at my lips. “Though you’re welcome to try.”
He exhales sharply, something between a laugh and a growl, and kisses me again. This time, there’s no hesitation in it. No fear.
I melt into the kiss and fall back on the bed.
41
PETYR
I’ve been holding back for weeks, and it’s been fucking torture.
Watching her walk past me in those soft shirts and tighter jeans… Seeing her talk back, laugh, bite her lip when she thought I wasn’t looking… It kept chipping away at my control.
Every night I’ve spent without being able to touch her, I’ve had to remind myself she just birthed my child. I couldn’t risk hurting her. I needed to be better than this.
But the look in her eyes now…Blyat’.
That little grin kills the promise I made to myself. Fucking burns it to ash.
I move before I even think. My hand finds her jaw. I drag her against me and kiss her hard enough to steal her breath.
The sound she makes against my mouth is half-moan, half-fight, and I want both.
My tongue forces its way between her lips. She tastes so fucking sweet, I have no idea how I resisted her this long.
When she falls back into the bed, I grab her wrist and pin it behind her. The way her body shudders tells me she’s been waiting for this as much as I have.
I spin her around and shove her gently against the mattress. Her palms dig into the duvet.
I tear at her clothes. Don’t bother with finesse. The lingerie I picked out for her looks spectacular on her body, but I bet she’ll look better without it.
I grab her panties with two fingers and yank. The sound of fabric ripping fills the space.
She gasps and twists, whines a weak “Petyr!”, and it only makes me harder.
