“Look at you,” he murmured, kicking off his breeches before crawling over her. “All twisted up for me.”
“You,” she agreed, wishing she could pull him down to her. The slow slide of his skin against hers would surely drive her mad.
She had only a moment of anticipation before he pushed inside her. The stretch of him was delicious, always on the very edge of pain, yet never quite fully there. Rey rocked, gentle but relentless, until he reached the deepest part of her. A sound escaped him, strangled and harsh. Curling himself over her body, Rey rested his forehead on her cheek, like he needed a moment to adjust as well.
“All right?” he whispered, and she nodded in reply.
With his body cocooned around hers, she felt so cherished. So protected. Soloved.But with his hot breath steaming her cheek and the possessive slide of his hand down her neck, she also felt desired. And the thought that this stern, deadly warrior would show this side of himself only to her made her dizzy with joy.
But then Rey began to move, and all thoughts fled her mind. In this new position, he reached different parts of her. She was helpless; unable to do anything but feel. He started with slow, experimental thrusts, but soon pushed himself upright, clutching her hip while moving in earnest.
Rey’s eyes held a glazed, lost sort of look as he stared at the place their bodies were joined. His thumb soon found the sensitive part of her, rubbing in tandem with his short, determined thrusts. Silla’s pleasure spiked upward, and an orgasm broke through her like a sudden, brutal storm. Through the sharp bites of pleasure, she heard Rey’s low muttered curses, a sound that only prolonged the sensations.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
Candlelight caught on his coarse curls, crowning him in light. He looked like a king, reigning over his subjects. But his eyes blazed with visceral want, every line in his body now drawn up taut, and Silla knew this was a man holding on by the very finest thread. With her delicate inner muscles, she clenched down around him, dark delight filling her at his hiss.
“Not yet, you wicked woman,” he muttered, pulling out. “I’ve waited too long.”
Silla frowned, her lax, satiated body suddenly so empty. But it wasn’t a heartbeat later that the smoke was once again tugging at her ankles, rolling her onto her back. Her thighs were spread wide, knees bent and pressed into the bed. Gods, she thought she couldn’t have another, but the way Rey rearranged her just how he wanted only made her body throb for him.
His hands came down on either side of her head, smoothing her curls away so they would not pull. The way he handled her—reverential yet demanding—made her melt beneath his touch. Her trust in him was absolute, and she did not take her eyes from Rey’s as he placed her legs against his shoulders. She gasped as he pushed inside her, hitting a spot that made stars scatter across her vision.
Garbled praise fell from Rey’s lips: “Beautiful,” and “Take it,” and “It’s yours.” His long, measured strokes quickly descended into a fevered pace, his words shifting to grunts. There was something so delicious about the way he used her body—the way he took what he wanted and gave so much in return. Pleasure built, low and deep-rooted, and though it felt impossible, she knew she would soon break apart again. Perhaps there was no limit with this man.
The unbridled passion in Rey’s eyes fell to something more tender, and suddenly the pressure was gone—Rey released his grip on her thighs and wrapped them around his hips. His body came down on hers, the hot slide of his firm chest against her sensitive breasts driving her mad. Rey cradled her face, bringing his lips down to hers in a soft, reverent kiss.
“I can bend you any way I want, Silla,” he whispered between kisses, “but I want you most of all like this.”
The heat and pressure at her wrists vanished, and Silla wanted to cry out at its loss. It had been exciting—a thrill to place her trust in him like that. But as Rey threaded his fingers with hers, his intimate gaze set her skin alight. Heat unfurled in the deepest part of her being, and Silla let her adoration for this man pour from her.
“I like you like this, too,” she whispered. “I think I might even love you.”
The words spilled from her, completely unfiltered. She hadn’tmeant to say that—hadn’t known she felt it until this very instant. But suddenly she couldn’t bear not saying it. Silla tilted her head and fit her lips against his.
“I love you, Reynir Galtung,” she breathed against his skin. “I had to say it. And it doesn’t matter if you return the—”
His finger pressed into the divot of her lower lip, cutting her words short. Silla blinked up at his gaze, burning with the heat of a thousand suns.
“Is itlovewhen all you really want to do is feed her sweet rolls and wrap her in a blanket and care for her so she’s never wanting for anything?”
An incredulous laugh fell from her.
“Is it love when every gods damned thought circles back to her; when you see her and it feels like your heart beats outside your own gods damned body; when you plot murder anytime another man looks her way?”
Silla found herself smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.
“Loveis too tame a word for what I feel for you, Sunshine.”
Heart pounding in her chest, words eluded her.
Reynir Galtung smiled, that dimple carving into his cheek. “Have I rendered you speechless?” he teased. “I suppose there’s a first time for everything—”
“Youlove me,” she repeated, ignoring all the rest. “Even after I used your full name.”
He kissed her softly, drawing back for a moment. “Only you can use it.”
“I shall abuse this privilege,” she vowed.
