I wanted him to say the words. I wanted to say the words to him.
Neither thing could happen.
His mouth returned to mine, and at least his kiss was completely honest. There were no lies there, no deceptions, no manipulations.
Just us.
He worshipped me with his lips, touched me with a burning reverence that made all the blood in my body throb fast and molten. I didn’t understand how a kiss could be so devastatingly tender and overwhelmingly passionate at the same time.
“Wife.” He somehow managed to make the word both gentle and possessive.
“Husband,” I sighed back. His lips whispered along my throat, and I lifted my chin to give him better access, arching up into him. My stomach knotted with pleasure. I wanted more. I needed to feed the fire that begged to be set free, to burn and consume everything in its path.
To kiss him in a way that felt more familiar and less scary.
I pulled his face back to mine and tried to kiss him, to show him how I was feeling, but he held himself just out of reach.
“No,” he said, kissing my forehead so tenderly that I thought I might cry. “This isn’t that.”
My mind was numb and buzzing at the same time, and it was like I couldn’t understand anything that was happening. Why had he stopped me?
“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured against my lips. “I feel it, too.”
He was in no hurry. He didn’t deepen the kiss. Instead it was like he was trying to convey something to me, only it was in a language I didn’t speak.
Then I realized that this was for me. He wasn’t pursuing his own desires—he wanted to show me this. How it could be.
He kissed me with a dreamy, delicate thoroughness that unleashed a cascade of exquisite sensations inside me. His long, slow kiss broke me apart, flooding me with warmth, and I combusted, turning into smoke. Ethereal, intangible. Floating away. Our edges blurred together in this slow intimacy and I couldn’t stop trembling.
This was what I had wanted—to pretend bad things weren’t happening. To shut out everyone and everything. Only Xander and his kisses could make the whole world disappear.
He lifted his head slightly and gazed at me again.
“How does this make you feel?” he asked.
“Good.”
“No, my little princess. How do you feel?” He took my hand and placed it against his chest so that I could feel his heartbeat. Steady, strong. It reminded me of when Suri had done it ... as a way to express her feelings to me.
How did I feel? I felt cherished. Adored.
Loved.
It was Lysimache’s taunt that filled my head.Do you really think you can access the goddess’s power if you do not do what you promised her?
My heart beat violently and erratically. It was suddenly too much. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t risk everything just for this moment. I wouldn’t let Locris be utterly destroyed.
Not Ilion, either.
“I can’t. We can’t. I have to go.” I shoved against him, and he moved slightly so that I could dart out from underneath him. I bounded across the bed and scrambled for the door, running out into the hallway.
Chapter Eighteen
It felt like I had ripped my own skin off and left it behind. My nerves were raw and exposed, and for the rest of my life, I would never forget the look on his face when I told him we couldn’t. The betrayal, the disappointment.
The hurt.
My body ached so badly for him that I nearly went back. I wanted him more than almost anything else. He was the one who had just told me that it was fine to feel desire for things we couldn’t have so long as we didn’t act on it.
