We lurch through the door as it smashes open against the wall without me touching it, our mouths fused as Selene’s cool hands find the edges of my shirt. She pushes it up, her palms sliding over my skin. “Off. Take this off.”
I vaguely hear a tearing noise. My hands spread over her waist, pulling her closer. Urging, as my palms slide down to her thighs. “Up.”
She’s liquid, seamless in my hands as I stride to the table and push the pitcher out of the way, ignoring the clang as it tumbles to the ground. Her nails scratch down my chest as I set her on the edge, my lips at her throat and moving lower, nipping with my teeth.
I want to see her. All of her, but I despise the thought of leaving her, even for a moment. “Do we need a light?”
“I don’t need it—,”
I don’t either, I realize, pausing in sudden wonder. Hala’s moon shines brightly through the window, bathing Selene’s skin in moonlight even if she wasn’t incandescent with her own glow, her skin lit up like a beacon as my fingers move to the buttons of her shirt.
I undo them one by one as her body shifts unsteadily, but I leave the garment in place.
My lips tilt up. “I always want you to wear my shirts. All of them. Consider them yours.”
She laughs, her head tipping back. “I’ll ruin them.”
“You could only vastly improve them, I assure you.” I don’t care if I walk around with slits in the back. I would wear them proudly. My hands slide down her leg, watching her lips part as I find her boots and tug them free, tossing them aside.
The gleam of her bare stomach teases me, a small strip visible between the edges of the shirt. Soft and glowing with that same light as I step back and look at her.
Selene hooks her foot around my hip, pulling me back. My hands slide carefully beneath that shirt, my eyes closing at the softness of her skin, tracing the ridges of her wings. “You will tell me if you need to stop.”
I never want her to look at me with fear in her eyes. Never want to push her back into the box they tried to lock her in. “Promise me.”
“I promise,” she says softly. “I know exactly who I am with, and who you are. And I want your touch on me.”
I inhale as she shrugs off the shirt, baring more of her skin. Her nipples peak in the cool air, pebbled and pale and tight as she grabs my wrist and pulls my hands to her skin.
The peaks are rigid beneath my thumbs as I brush over them, again and again, watching her head tilt back. Selene’s breath changes to small, gasping pants followed by a cry as I lean forward and seal my mouth over her nipple.
Her hands grip my hair, tugging on it, and I drink in the small pain as my own personal indicator of her pleasure, testing which movements make her fingers tighten. My left hand travels around to press carefully over the moonsilk of her wings, pressing her against my mouth, the other cupping her right breast and massaging it until I switch over.
I want to see Selene Amaris undone. To make her tremble and cry my name.
To see her undone in the same way that she undoes me.
My mouth moves lower, as my hands settle on her sides. Her hair shrouds us in a glorious wave as I trace her stomach, feeling it flex beneath my touch.
I reach the waistband of her pants and hook my finger into them. “These need to come off, I think.”
“Yes.” She almost hisses it. My fingers move to the tog, flicking it open. Both of us breathe in as Selene pushes down against the table with her hands, lifting herself so I can peel them down her thighs.
I reach for her again, curving my hands around petal-soft skin. When I drop to my knees, raising her legs and draping them over my shoulders, I feel her hesitation and pause. “Callan—”
My lips press to the inside of her thigh. I chase the soft touch with my teeth, adoring every small sound that comes from her throat. “Has anyone ever kissed you here?”
She shakes her head. “Nobody has ever kissed me anywhere.”
The small tremor in her voice has my face lifting. I stretch up and cup her cheeks, pressing my lips to hers. Once, twice, again. “I will kiss you always, then. All of my kisses are yours.”
She nods, silent and flushed as I nudge her onto her back. My palms smooth over her thighs, over the soft traces of dark hair between them, and she makes a choked sound as I spread her. “This is—”
Fucking perfect.
I test her, first. I brush my lips over her nub; following it with small licks that torture me as I taste her, as I listen to her husky cries and hold her steady as she bucks against me.
“Every day,” I breathe into her. Desire and delight underscores my words, my breathing haggard. “I need this every damned day, Selene.”
