He lowers my hand, the arrogant kick of a brow sending a delicious flutter in the pit of my stomach. “Whatotherway, Rapunzel?”
I flick my gaze at our bed. “Quinn and Dax… They saved a part of me for you.” When I look back at him, Wren gifts me with my favorite thing in the world.
His smile.
It shines on me like the sun. Leaving these men would be the worst form of torture. Worse than condemning me back to the tower. Worse than forcing me to spend an eternity in darkness. Wren, Quinn, Dax… They infuse me with life far stronger than the magic within my hair.
“Did they?” There’s a playful note in Wren’s question. “How thoughtful.”
“Wasn’t it?” I give him a sheepish grin.
Then his eyes turn devious, and his expression takes on a primal edge. “I will always be able to claim you were mine first, Rapunzel.”
There it is.
Wren may not mind sharing me with Quinn and Dax, but he also enjoys having something with me that belongs to us and us alone.
I smooth my thumbs over his brow. “You’ve always had me, Wren. From the day you stepped into the glade, and I peeked down at you from the window. Not a moment has passed since when I haven’t been yours.”
He grabs my upper arms and squeezes at my confession. I bite my lower lip, sucking in a sharp inhale. “I’m never letting you go again.”
“There will never be a need.”
Gently, he presses me backward to sit me on the edge of the bed. He stares at me for a moment—just a beat—as if I’m a fragile work of art. “Rapunzel…” Wren, eyes on mine, fingers the laces of his breeches.
“This is what you do to me.” He palms himself through his pants. “I want you so fucking bad.”
I slide back on the mattress. Part my legs and hitch up my skirts to expose my legs. All the while, I keep my gaze fixed on him. “Then take me.”
Challenge accepted, Wren’s expression practically screams as he kicks off his boots. I move to shuck my clothing, but he stabs a finger at me. “Don’t you dare.” Then he shakes his head. “I’ve been waiting too long to do that myself. Don’t deny me my right.”
My stomach flip-flops. “I wouldn’t dare deny you anything in this chamber.”
His smirk tells me he doesn’t miss the limitation I put on my obedience. “Damn right, you won’t. You’re my gift to unwrap.”
Despite his trembling fingers, Wren quickly finishes unlacing his breeches. His pants part, and I watch—fascinated and eager—as he draws them past his hips. His cock springs free. My God, it’s beautiful. Long. Thick. And so hard. The vein that runs the length of his shaft pulsates. I can’t imagine he will fit himself inside me while craving the pain as he tries.
After he removes his shirt and casts it aside, I look my fill of his spectacular body. Strong and muscular, there is no trace left of the lean hunter I remember. In his place is a man built for battle. And when he moves closer, I study the nicks and scars that decorate his sun-kissed flesh. One day, he’ll tell me of his life since leaving Leeds. But not today. Today—now—he keeps to his vow of unwrapping me.
Almost in awe, he peels away first my ruined blue tunic. Then my cream chemise. He falls to one knee and teases his fingers along the waistband of my underwear. “Lift up, Rapunzel.”
His voice is a gruff command. I obey, and when I do, he slides the garment past my hips and ass. Down my legs. And with a wicked grin, he tosses them away. With him gloriously naked, he gently pushes on my shoulders until I’m supine on our bed. He is tightly coiled power above me as he claims the spaces between my thighs. His body chases away the castle’s damp chill, as together, we could set the world on fire.
Everything about him is a stark contrast to me. Where I’m small, soft…delicate, Wren is solid. Carved in stone. I dance my fingers along the unyielding planes of his chest. Across scarred flesh stretched taut over muscle. I ache to reach into his past and erase the memories that must haunt him of when he received those wounds. But that’s beyond my magic. All I can do is replace them with better memories as we build our future—just as he always wanted.
Then Wren’s mouth is on mine and thought abandons me.
His kiss is greedy. Demanding. Mindful of crushing me, he props himself on one arm. He teases my breast with his other hand, fingers playing over my fevered flesh. I arch into his touch when he rolls my nipple, pinching it into a tight bud.
“Stay still.” He commands, removing his hand like a punishment for my body’s reaction.
I reach for him. He shakes his head with a smirk. With a single finger, the tormentor he is, he traces his way from my bottom lip over the curve of my chin. Down my throat. Then returns to my breasts. He circles first one pebbled nipple, then the other. Flicks it with his tongue. Blows on the wet to pull a slow sigh from me.
“Oh, God, Wren… What are you doing?”
His hooded eyes are full of desire. “Anything I want.”
To prove his boast, he devours my breast. What begins as a needle prick of desire blossoms into a delicious ache when his hand settles between my thighs. The heat of his palm scorches me as I buck my hips to chase his fire.
