I closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. Draven stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do. I have been alone with him before, but never like this. My palms felt sticky, and my heart would not stop beating hard in my chest. I was sure he could hear it as well in the quiet room.
Draven surveyed the room as my things were scattered around. Since the last time he was here, I had made it more my own. Piles of books now sat on the furniture, and my desk was covered in discarded drafts of letters to Vail. As much as Imalda tried, clothes still lay around the room. I always had trouble in the morning figuring out what to wear, since I loved all the dresses.
I cleared my throat and walked over to Draven, who straightened for a moment. “Can you help me?” I asked, turning around and pointing to a ribbon that laced up the back of my dress.
Draven reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, as he began to untie my dress. I held my breath as his fingers brushed the skin of my back.
“All done,” he said, his voice slightly strained. He appeared to be as affected by our proximity as I was.
I let the dress slowly slide off my shoulders and fall into a puddle of fabric around my ankles, leaving me in just the under slip, the thin fabric barely concealing my figure.
I felt nervous as I turned around to face Draven. I looked up at him and reached out to brush a lock of his hair away from his eyes. “You are extremely beautiful,” I told him.
He exhaled a breath. “Rosalia, if only you knew how often I find myself lost in thoughts of your beauty,” he confessed, his voice thick with desire. My heart raced, and my fingers twitched, yearning to touch him more.
Our lips drew closer. I hesitated, a thousand questions swirling in my mind. Was this right? The moment stretched, charged with tension that made my skin tingle.
“Draven,” I whispered.
“Yes, Rosalia?”
“May I kiss you?”
The moment our lips touched, I knew I had opened a floodgate that would never close. My heart thundered in my chest. The world outside faded, and all that remained was the pull drawing me closer to him. He took my face in both of his hands and tilted my head back, deepening the kiss. I let out a moan as he did.
Our lips danced in a silent symphony, and I felt weightless, as if the burdens I carried had melted away. Draven broke the kiss, his gaze searching mine.
“Is this all right?”
“Yes,” I breathed, drawing him back to my mouth.
After what felt like an eternity, I reluctantly pulled away, anticipation coursing through my veins.
“Can you stay here with me tonight?” I whispered.
“I would love nothing more,” he replied, stroking the side of my face. I looked up at him, into his pale eyes, and kissed him again. I pulled him over to the bed and sat down on the edge, and just like that, we were no longer tentative with each other.
In one fluid motion, I pulled him down on top of me, and he held my body, hovering over me. His mouth left my lips and trailed along my jaw, making its way to my neck. Another moan escaped me.
“Draven,” I whispered, my voice quivering in a plea filled with longing. But then I hesitated, my fingers curling against his shoulder. “Wait …”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, concern flickering in his eyes. “What is it?”
“I need to tell you something before we go any further.” I looked away, shame pressing against my chest. “I am not … I am not pure. Not in the way someone like you deserves.”
His brow furrowed. He touched my chin gently, coaxing me to meet his gaze. “Rosalia,” he said softly. “What makes you think I care about that?”
I swallowed hard. “I just thought you should know. That you should have the chance to walk away if—”
He silenced me with a tender kiss, slow and reverent. “There is nothing you could say that would make me want to walk away from you,” he murmured against my lips. “You are not impure.”
Tears stung the corners of my eyes.
“You are my heart,” he responded, kissing me even more passionately, sealing our connection in that moment of desire.
That night, we spent our time lost in passionate embraces and whispered conversations. In his arms, I felt like time ceased to exist, our words weaving stories about our lives. It was in the late hours of the night that I realized how profoundly I had begun to care for Draven. His words painted pictures in my mind, and I felt our bond grow stronger. It was an overwhelming feeling that I did not want to end.
TWENTY-ONE
