“Your ribs,” he said, like a reminder to himself.
“Are fine,” she lied, because she needed him more than she needed comfort.
He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was doing, but instead of calling her on it, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, right where the bruise was darkest. His lips were so tender it made her throat tight.
“We go slow,” he said against her skin. “And you tell me the second something hurts.”
“Alaric—”
“Promise me, Sera.”
She looked up at him, saw the need warring with concernin his eyes, and something shifted deep in her chest. “I promise.”
He kissed her then, soft and sweet and devastating, his tongue sliding against hers with lazy thoroughness while his hand mapped her body with careful attention. When his fingers finally slid between her legs, she was already wet and aching, and the touch made her arch into him despite the protest from herribs.
“Easy,” he murmured against her mouth, circling her clit with maddening lightness. “Let me.”
Sera tried to hold still, tried to let him set the pace, but it was torture. Delightful, perfect torture. He worked her with patient skill, building the pressure until she was trembling and breathless, until she was so close she could tasteit.
Then he stopped.
Her eyes flew open to find him watching her with dark satisfaction, his fingers still resting against her but not moving.
“Not yet,” he said quietly.
“Alaric—”
He kissed her before she could form a coherent protest, deep and claiming, while his hand resumed its devastatingrhythm. He brought her to the edge three more times, each one sharper and more desperate than the last, until she was shaking and incoherent beneathhim.
“Please,” she finally gasped against his mouth. “Please.”
He shifted then, settling between her legs, his weight supported on his forearms so none of it pressed on her ribs. Even now, even trembling with need, he was thinking of her comfort, her pain, her bruises. The tenderness of it made her chest ache almost as much as her injuries.
The head of his cock brushed against her entrance, and they both froze, breathing hard. The moment stretched between them, heavy with promise and possibility and everything they’d been through to gethere.
“Tell me if I hurt you,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a prayer. Like the most important words he’d ever spoken.
Sera wrapped her legs around his hips in answer, careful of the bruises on both their bodies, and pulled him closer. “I trust you,” she whispered, and watched something in his eyes go soft and fierce all atonce.
He entered her slowly, so slowly it was almost unbearable, his gaze locked on her face, watching for every flicker of painor discomfort. She stretched around him, experiencing the exquisite pressure of being filled, of him pressing deeper and deeper until she didn’t know where she ended and he began. When he was fully seated inside her, they both exhaled in unison, the relief and rightness of it washing over them like awave.
“Okay?” he asked, his voice strained, every muscle in his body taut with the effort of holding still.
She nodded, unable to form words, and lifted her hips experimentally. The movement sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine, sharp enough to make her gasp, and she watched his pupils dilate in response.
Alaric pulled back and thrust in again, gentle but thorough, and the pressure built impossibly fast. He set a rhythm that was sweet and devastating at once, each stroke measured, each one angled to hit exactly where she needed. He moved like he did everything else, with absolute precision, total focus, as if her pleasure was the most important problem he’d ever solved.
His mouth found hers, swallowing her moans, while his hand slid between them to stroke her clit in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, perfect, and she climbed toward a release with frightening speed. Every nerve ending wason fire, every cell in her body focused on the point where they were joined, where he filled her so completely she couldn’t imagine ever being empty again.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly, and there was steel beneath the gentleness.
Sera forced her eyes open, met his gaze, and the connection there—the raw intimacy of it, the vulnerability and trust and need—sent her over the edge. She came with a sharp cry, her body clenching around him in waves that seemed to go on forever, pleasure crashing through her in pulses so intense she forgot how to breathe.
He followed moments later, his control finally shattering as he buried himself deep and groaned her name against her throat. His whole body shuddered above her, inside her, and she held him through it, her hands stroking down his back, picking up on each tremor that ran throughhim.
They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other in a rhythm that was like coming home. Alaric shifted carefully, still mindful of her ribs even now, even in the aftermath, and pressed a kiss to her temple that was so tender it made her eyes sting.
“Okay?” he asked again, softer this time, and she heard the real questionbeneath it. Are we okay? Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Was that toomuch?
