He kissed her then, gentle and possessive at the same time, pouring his heart into the kiss, and she kissed him back with equal fervor, pouring all the words she'd held back into the press of her lips, the stroke of her tongue, the way her fingers tangled in his hair.
"Take me to bed," she said when they broke apart.
Esag's eyes blazed with inner light. "As my lady commands."
He swept her up into his arms and cradled her against his chest with a strength and tenderness that was all Esag.
Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He carried her to the bedroom and laid her on the bed with a gentleness that belied the hunger in his eyes, settling her against the pillows like she was a queen and he her loyal servant. Then he just stood there for a moment, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm memorizing this moment. I want to remember forever the first time you told me you loved me." He lowered himself onto the bed beside her, propping himself up on one elbow. "I could spend eternity just looking at you."
Thankfully, he did more than look.
He kissed her again, softer this time, a slow exploration that made her toes curl.
He undressed her slowly, reverently, as if unwrapping a gift he'd been waiting a lifetime to receive, as if this was their first time together, and perhaps it was because she'd finally told him that she loved him.
Each piece of clothing that fell away was followed by a kiss—on her shoulder, her collarbone, the swell of her breast. By the time she lay bare before him, she was trembling with anticipation.
"So beautiful," he breathed, his eyes traveling over her body with an appreciation that made her feel like a goddess rather than a mere immortal. "You are so incredibly beautiful."
"Thank you." She reached for him, tugging at his shirt. "But I want less talking and more undressing."
He laughed and complied, shedding his own clothes with considerably less ceremony. When he stretched out beside her again, skin against skin, Tula let out a sigh of pure contentment.
This feeling of connection, of being truly seen and loved for exactly who she was, was what she'd been missing all those centuries in the harem, going through one lover after another. This wasn't just sex. This was true intimacy. True connection.
Esag took his time, mapping her body with hands and lips and tongue as if he was learning her all over again. He lingered on the places that made her gasp, avoided the places that made her ticklish, adjusted his touch to match her responses with an attentiveness that bordered on telepathic.
When he finally settled between her thighs, she was already on edge.
"I love you," he said, holding her gaze as he slid into her.
The words, combined with the sensation of him filling her, pushed her over the edge she'd been teetering on. Tula cried out, her back arching off the bed, pleasure crashing through her in endless waves.
Esag held her, murmuring words of love and devotion against her skin, before beginning to move in slow, deep strokes that built up the pleasure all over again.
They made love slowly, tenderly, with none of the desperate urgency of their earlier encounters. This was different. This was a claiming and a surrender all at once, a physical expression of the emotional bond they'd finally fully acknowledged.
When release came for both of them, it was brilliant. Transformative.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, her head on his chest, his hand caressing her back. The only sounds were their thundering heartbeats and their gradually slowing breaths.
"Move in with me," Tula said.
Esag's hand stilled on her back. "Now?"
"Yes." She propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. "Let's make it official. Tell Davuh and Roven that you are moving out and transfer your workshop to the spare bedroom. I don't like it that you work inside a closet. You need space to grow artistically." She traced a finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the softness of his short beard. "I already fall asleep next to you every night and wake up next to you every morning, but I also want your clothes in my closet. I want this to be our home."
His smile was slow and brilliant, like a sunrise over the ocean. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes." She settled back against his chest, satisfied.
"I don't want to move my workshop, though."
