But she’s not smiling with me. I can feel her sadness.
“But I didn’t. Not really…”
I feel my heart sink. After all we’ve been through, she can’t possibly think this is still all for show. She rolls over to look me in the eye, and my breath catches. Tears stain her cheeks, and I’m the cause. I take her hands in mine.
“Aren of Evandale, no proposal, no poem, no ode, no grand gesture is enough to express all you mean to me. You are more to me than I am to myself; to me, you are perfect. More importantly, you are perfect for me.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Aren
I take several deep breaths willing myself to believe his words.
I beam. I don’t think I have ever smiled like this in my life. There’s no wondering anymore. No constant questioning. And to think, we’re coming to terms with our feelings just in time for us to die.
But there is still a little life left to live.
The dim light catches his beautiful eyes. They flicker like candles in the dark. Even in the murky gloom, I can see the shape of his strong, muscular body. It takes everything in me not to reach out and trace my finger over every ridge.
He doesn’t look away. Neither of us says anything.
My heart is pounding so furiously that I’m sure he can feel it being this close.
It isn’t the perfect time or place, but again, we may die soon. So, I gaze up at him, feeling safe cradled against his chest. He reaches out with a single finger and traces my lips. Tingles follow his gentle trail.
I let my desire to kiss him again overwhelm me.
“Kiss me, you idiot,” I demand.
“As my lady commands.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
He rolls me under him. I revel in how good he feels…howright. I look up at him, and for a moment I’m lost in those eyes. He props himself up on his elbows, his mouth hovering just above mine, making me wait. Making us both wait.
Cheeky bastard.
He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me gently. He goes slow. I sigh as I bury my fingers in his luscious hair, scraping my nails across his scalp. I groan as he deepens the kiss, feeling him breathe into me. His tongue finds mine. He’s melting my resolve like candle wax. I groan again, my entire body humming.
We’re not pretending anymore. There are no more excuses.
Because this is real.
He’s more delicious than anything I’ve ever tasted. I want to consume him, devour him. My desire deepens as his tongue slides and teases against mine. I can feel his growing need, hard and strong, against my softness.
I want to lose myself completely to the pleasure of Dietan finally holding me so completely in his arms, but I sense his hesitation. I know he’s thinking about the Rings.
But there isn’t a draft, not even a breeze—no sign that the Whisting is at bay.
He continues, growing more confident, placing soft kisses down my jaw, then down my neck. Finally, he pulls open my robe and unfastens the small hidden hooks. He slides the neckline wider, exposing me. My breath hitches. This is the first time a man has ever seen me in this state of undress. I start to nervously ramble, but Dietan places his finger lightly to my lips.
“Shh, you’re beautiful.” That same hand works its way down my upper body, lighting my skin like a sunrise over the horizon. Finally, he cups one of my breasts. A small gasp escapes my lips. He strokes the sensitive skin with gentle caresses, running the pad of his thumb over my nipple. I savor every brush, every twist. I whimper, pleasure radiating through my whole body.
I let my hands explore, too, removing his shirt, running them up and down his hard back, gripping him closer. Our kisses grow wilder, our breaths heavy. I reach down into his smallclothes and take him into my hand.
My eyes grow large with surprise. Dietan notices and roguishly smiles into our kiss.
I run my hand up and down his generous length. He shudders as a moan escapes his lips. I love that I can set his body on fire, just as he does mine.
