She tried to keep her voice calm as she pushed herself off the door and crossed the room to him. “Oh? And what exactly are you bequeathing?” She slid onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips as she locked her arms around his neck. Will’s hands slid up her thighs, his head tipping back as he gave her a slow grin.
“I do have money saved, you know.”
“Oh I know. I’ve seen your fancy wardrobe,” Aya teased. She ducked her head, her lips pausing a breath from his. “It screams wealth.”
“And here I thought you liked the way I dress.”
Aya slid her hand from his neck to his shirt, her fingers dragging across the fabric until she found the buttons. “I think I like you better without clothes, actually.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Will muttered. But he surged up anyways, capturing her mouth in a devastating kiss. There was nothing slow in the movement of his lips against hers, nothing gentle in the tug of Aya’s hands against the buttons of his shirt. Her exhaustion vanished, and in its place was a frenzied need to feel every bit of him.
Her impatience won out, and she ripped the buttons from their seams.
All of that fear, all of that desperation they’d been trying to keep at bay…it came roaring to the surface, manifesting in their movements as they reached for each other.
Aya pulled away to push Will’s shirt off his shoulders, her lips trailing down his neck as she shoved at the fabric. Will’s hands were everywhere: her hair, her waist, the swell of her ass, her face.
It was like he couldn’t decide where to linger, like he couldn’t pick just one part of her to hold.
Like he knew this could very well be their last time.
The thought had Aya drawing back, her hand gripping his chin to still him.
“What is it?” he asked, his breath coming in shallow pants. Aya stared into his eyes—wide and fearful—before she pressed a long, tender kiss to his lips. Her fingers moved to the lapels of his shirt again, but this time, she kept her movements slow.
Purposeful.
She dropped his shirt on the floor, her hands finding his skin again, tracing the dips of his abs as she trailed up his torso. She felt the moment he let the tension coiled tightwithin him release. His shoulders lowered as her hands slid over them, his breath shuddering from his chest as he sank further back into the cushions. When his hands found her hips again, they were steady and firm, his kiss less frantic but no less passionate.
Aya gasped as he moved her against him, heat flooding her stomach as his hands guided her hips. Will’s tongue flicked against hers as he wrapped an arm around her and stood. Aya’s legs locked around his waist, her fingers combing through his hair as he walked them to the bed.
He laid her down with heartbreaking gentleness, his hands skimming up her sides until he found the hem of her shirt. She pushed herself up as he tugged it off, her pants following shortly behind. Will kept his gaze on her as he flicked the button of his own trousers open and stepped out of the fabric.
She reached for him as soon as his knee hit the mattress, unable to bear not touching him for more than a few moments. Her hands tingled as they found his warm skin, her throat clogging with emotion as Will kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. He swallowed down every single noise of pleasure he pulled from her as his hands played her body like it was an instrument made especially for him, his fingers stroking her clit steadily, his touch lighting up every part of her.
Her breath snagged in her chest when he finally,finallyslid into her, her legs wrapping around his waist so she could drag him even closer, until his hips were pressed flush to hers. Every bit of what she was feeling was reflected on Will’s face as he stared down at her, his breath trembling through parted lips.
Aya raised a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped.
“Fight with me,” she whispered.
Will pressed a long, lingering kiss to the center of her palm, right over her newly formed scar.
“Always,” he promised.
67
Aidon didn’t need the knock on the door to wake him. He’d been up for hours, his gaze fixed on the crown molding above his head as he counted Dauphine’s breaths. She was curled into his side, her naked body warm against his, her breath soft as it tickled the side of his neck.
He kissed her forehead as a steady drumbeat started from outside.
The signal to assemble.
“Is it time already?” she murmured into his pec as she buried her head there.
“It is.”
Dauphine lifted her chin, eyes wide and shining with rare vulnerability. “I’m afraid,” she breathed. “I’m afraid that this is all the time the gods will have granted us together.”
