And what if I do get him hurt—or even killed—because of it?
My heart is still heavy when we get home, but as soon as we’re inside, Zacharie suddenly lifts me up against the wall, his mouth is crushing mine, and it’s like he just knows.
Sometimes, it’s tenderness that heals your heart. Soft words. Gentle touches. The quiet reassurance of being held.
But there are also times when you just want to lose yourself in a kiss so scorchingly hot that all you can do is whimper.
And it’s really like our souls are entwined in every way, with Zacharie deepening the kiss as his body rocks against mine. The marble of the foyer wall is cool against my back, but everywhere he touches burns. My fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket. My arms wind around his neck. My legs tighten around his waist as he presses closer, harder, like he’s trying to fuse us into one person.
His kiss burns all the way down to my very core.
The friction between our bodies tightens into something that just keeps building and building and building—
“Mira.”
He grits my name out against my lips, and that’s all it takes.
I shatter in his arms, a torrent of pleasure pounding into me, wave after breathless wave, and all I can do is cling to him and shake apart while his hands grip my thighs hard enough to bruise.
I’m not sure how much time passes.
Minutes. Hours. A small eternity wrapped in the warmth of his body.
Eventually, he carries me down the corridor, past the cathedral windows where the last of the sunset spills golden light across the floors, and into his bedroom. The sheets are cool and soft when he lays me down, and my eyes drift open as he settles beside me.
His blue eyes are magical.
Warm ice. Cold heat. Crystal clear in his desire to protect me. Cherish me.Love me.
And that’s when I find myself praying.
Please, God.
Please.
Don’t let anything happen to him because of me.
