“Alaric,” she whispered, and his name on her lips sounded like permission and demand all atonce.
He looked up, and the hunger in his eyes made her kneesweak.
Slowly, so slowly she could have stopped him at any second, he brought the towel up and dried the water beading along her collarbone, across the swell of her breasts, down the valley between them. His thumb brushed her nipple through the fabric—once,twice—and she gasped at the sharp pleasure that shot straight to hercore.
“God,” he breathed, the word barely audible, and she realized it might have been the first time she’d heard him sound genuinely undone.
He dropped to his knees again, and this time there was no pretense of simple caretaking. The towel fell away as his hands settled on her hips, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just above her pelvic bone with painstaking intent. He looked up at her, waiting for permission he didn’t really need because they both knew where this was going. Sera threaded her fingers through his white-blond hair in answer.
His mouth found the inside of her thigh first, lips and tongue tracing patterns that made her shake. He took his time, kissing higher, closer, mapping her with the same meticulous attention he brought to everything. But there was worship in it too, reverence in each press of his lips, and something cracked open in Sera’s chest at the realization that Alaric Severin was on his knees forher.
When his breath ghosted across her center, she tightened her grip on his hair, needing theconnection.
“Alaric—”
He kissed her there with devastating accuracy, and whatever words she’d been about to say dissolved into a choked moan. His tongue traced her slowly, thoroughly, learning every place that made her gasp and clench. He held her steady when her knees tried to buckle, his hands firm on her hips as he took her apart with relentless focus.
It was too much and not enough all at once. Pleasure built in waves, each one cresting higher, climbing toward something reckless and necessary. But it wasn’t enough. She needed him closer, needed to touch him, needed to give him even a fraction of what he was giving her. Needed to shatter his restraint the way he was shatteringhers.
“Wait,” she managed, tugging at hishair.
He pulled back immediately, concern flashing across his features. “Did I hurt—”
“No.” She tugged again, urging him up. “Come here.”
Alaric rose with fluid grace despite the clear reluctance in his movements, his lips wet from her, his pupils blown wide. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him hard, tasting herself on his tongue, absorbing the groan that rumbled through his chest.
When she broke the kiss, she pushed him backward toward thebed with gentle insistence. He sat without protest, watching her with an intensity that made her powerful despite the bruises and the aches. Despite everything they’d survived tonight.
Sera knelt between his legs, settling on the plush carpet, and his hands immediately found her shoulders. Not restraining. Steadying. Always steadying her even when he was the one about to come undone.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she said simply, settling her hands on his thighs. She looked up at him, held his gaze. “I need to.”
Something shifted in his expression, vulnerability flickering there before he could hide it. His muscles were rock-hard beneath her palms, tension radiating through every line of his body. She stroked upward slowly, watching his face as she did, cataloguing the way his jaw clenched, the way his breathing turned shallow and rough, the way his fingers tightened on her shoulders.
He was beautiful like this. Not the cold, constrained businessman the world saw. Not the calculated strategist who played twelve moves ahead. Just a man who wanted her, who was trying to hold himself together and failing.
When her hand wrapped around him, his head fell back with a soundthat was half-groan, half-surrender, and an answering reaction pulled low in her belly.
She took her time. She explored him with hands and mouth, learning what made him tighten his grip on her shoulders, what drew those harsh, demanding sounds from his throat. He was hard and velvet-soft at once, heavy on her tongue, and the taste of him—salt and heat and pure Alaric—made her ache with renewedneed.
She took him deeper, hollowing her cheeks, working him with measured skill. His whole body went rigid aboveher.
“Sera—” Her name was a warning and a plea, forceful and broken.
She hummed in response, the vibration making him pulse against her tongue, and his hand flew to her hair. Not pulling her away. Not yet. Just holding on like she was the only thing keeping him connected.
“Stop,” he ordered, and now there was genuine urgency in his voice. “I’m going to—”
She didn’t stop. She wanted this. Wanted to feel him lose it, wanted to give him this release after everything, wanted to taste his pleasure on her tongue.
His fingers tightened in her hair almost painfully, and for a moment she thought he might let her finish it, might letgo of that iron control and give himself over to it. But then he was pulling her up with impatient gentleness, his hands shaking as they framed herface.
“Bed,” he managed, his voice wrecked. “Now.”
Sera let him guide her onto the mattress, watched him follow her down with the same attention he brought to everything, except now it was fraying at the edges. He settled beside her rather than over her, propped on one elbow, his free hand stroking down her side with exquisitecare.
