“There isn’t,” I whisper. “There’s no one else I want. Just—”
He doesn’t let me finish.
His hands slide under my cardigan, palms cool against my overheated skin, and I gasp at the contrast. He’s touching me like I’m something precious. Something breakable. His fingers trace the curve of my waist, the dip of my spine, leaving trails of fire everywhere they go.
“Mira.” My name sounds like a prayer on his lips.
I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can only feel—his hands, his mouth, the solid warmth of his body pressing me back against the rough bark of the tree.
He takes his time.
Learns me with his hands and his lips and his devastating patience. Finds the places that make me gasp, then returns to them again and again until I’m trembling, until I’m clutching his shoulders just to stay upright, until sounds I didn’t know I could make are spilling from my throat.
When I finally shatter, it’s with his name on my lips and his eyes on my face, watching every moment of my unraveling like he wants to memorize it.
When I come back to myself, I’m boneless, breathless, an absolute mess in the sweetest way, and the ball of fear that’s been stuck inside of me ever since the auction is gone. I lift my gaze to his and swallow hard when I see the look in his eyes.
Mira the Disturber,indeed.
“Zacharie.”
His voice is uneven.
“But you may also call me yours if you wish.”
I choke on air.
How?
How does he know I almost called him that the first night I spent in his home?
How?
“It’s your face,ma belle.It gives everything away.”
If that’s the case then—
I can feel him smile as I bury my face in his chest.
I mean...what else is there to do?
I have no idea what my face is saying right now, but I’m sure it’s something he doesn’t need to know.
“You do not need to hide anything from me, Mira.”
“I beg to differ.”
“I beg to differ back.”
He steps away before I can stop him, and he’s cupping my chin, and...sigh.The moment his gaze captures mine, I’m done for.
“We must never have secrets from each other.C’est clair?”
He’s already taking my hand as he speaks, and all I can do is nod.Le sigh.Those blue eyes of his are a killer.
Zacharie insists on walking me back to my dorm, and I can’t help stealing glances at him every so often, wondering if this is really happening. Life has been so crazy lately—huh?
I finally notice the way other students have been staring and whispering, and I’m not sure what I should do or how I should feel about it.
