“Maybe she’s wrong,” he says. “She might be a powerful queen, but maybe she’s wrong about the best way for me to be king. Maybe a marriage to a princess isn’t what will earn the people’s respect. Maybe our people need someonereal. Regardless of what my people want, it’s what I want.Youare what I want. Whom I love. Even if you remain determined to leave, wherever you go, my heart will follow. I’ll keep away from you in body, if that is what you wish, but you have my heart now.”
I allow my lips to flicker up slightly, lifted by the hope that glows warm in my core. It grows brighter, sending the last remnants of my fear burning away. “You have mine too.”
“What’s your name?”
“Ember.”
“Ember.” The word comes out with a breath like a gentle breeze. “That’s why you let me call you Em. It was never meant to be the letterM.”
“It’s what my parents called me. You can still call me that if you’d like.”
“Em. My Ember.”
The sound of my name—my full name—fills my heart with the most delectable pleasure. “My Franco.”
His lips come to mine, reigniting the fiery passion we left behind at the lake. This time, I hold nothing back. I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing myself close to him. His tongue caresses mine and I moan against his lips. One of my hands weaves through his hair, while the other trails over the front of his shoulder and slips over his silk cravat, still damp from our swim. I trail my fingers down to the collar of his shirt, where I slide my hand over the warmth of his chest. He pulls back slightly, a question in his eyes. I hold his gaze as my fingers come to the knot in his cravat.
My lips quirk into a smile, and his answering smirk sends heat uncoiling from my abdomen. His lips return to mine, but our kisses are slower now, softer. I untie his cravat and throw it on the floor, then slide my hands beneath his jacket until it too drops to the ground. His waistcoat comes next. As I reach for the buttons on his shirt, he bends down to hoist me beneath my thighs and props me onto my dressing table. His lips trail down my neck, and I angle my head to allow him greater access. I continue to loosen the remaining buttons of his shirt while his hands come to the clasps at the back of my gown. Once his final button is free, he shrugs his shirt off completely. I run my hands up and down his torso, tracing the lines of his tattoos until he presses close to me once more to finish unhooking the clasps of my dress.
His hands go still behind me, then slowly move to my sleeves. He holds my gaze as he pulls them over my shoulders, my arms, until the bodice hangs around my waist, revealing my corset and chemise. There he pauses and pulls back to look at me, hands braced on either side of the dressing table.
“You’re absolutely stunning,” he says. His eyes trail from the neckline of my chemise to my collarbone. He lifts one hand to my hair and runs his hands through the length of it. “This color, it’s beautiful.” His eyes meet mine. “You’re beautiful.”
Our lips meet. Softly. Slowly. He pulls back again.
Sitting tall, I bring my fingers to the top hook of my corset and release it. Then I move to the next. The next. He watches my every move, his breaths shallow as his muscles tense. Once free of my corset, I lean forward and claim his mouth. He opens it for me, and I brush my tongue against his. He groans, and his hands come to my chemise. With slow, gentle movements, he slips it down, exposing my skin an inch at a time, until the fabric joins my bodice around my waist. Keeping one hand on my hip, he slides the other up my waist, then over the curve of my breast. His hand feels warm on my bare skin, and I arch into his touch. He draws his thumb in a lazy circle, making me throw my head back and bite my lip.
That seems to unravel him. He lifts me again, and this time he takes me to my bed. As soon as my back hits the soft blankets, I shove my skirts down past my hips, aided by his hands. Then he reaches for the buttons on his trousers. I watch him loosen button after button. I’m eager to see just how far his black ink trails down his torso and am pleased to discover it travels quite far indeed, ending just above the swell of him. Our eyes meet and I scoot farther onto the bed. He steps out of his trousers and lowers himself next to me. With reverent attention, he runs his hand up my calf, my thighs. I explore the planes of his chest with my fingertips, then rest my hand on his hip.
“Your tattoos are beautiful,” I say, voice breathless.
His eyes light over the length of me, and a sly grin tips a corner of his mouth. “So are yours.”
Confused, I glance down at myself. A bark of laughter escapes my lips as I find my skin speckled with silver moons and constellations. Around my ankles wrap the three staves of music. My fingers move to the necklace. “I didn’t realize the glamour would work on skin too.”
“Do you want me to remove your necklace?”
I nod. “I don’t want there to be any glamour between us right now.”
He reaches for the back of my neck and unhooks the clasp. After setting the necklace on my nightstand, he returns to me and cups my cheek in his hand. “I love you, Ember.”
The sound of my name paired with his declaration of love sends a euphoric shudder through me. “I love you, Franco.”
We kiss again and I arch against him. His hands move over my body, and once he finishes exploring me by touch, he does it all over again with his lips, trailing kisses across my skin, over my breasts, between my thighs. He then kisses down each leg, leaving fire in his wake. The tingling at the apex of my thighs is almost unbearable, searing me to my core. Nothing has ever felt like this. No lover has ever sparked such yearning in me. Nolovehas ever had me so enraptured.
His fingers light over my stomach, lowering inch by inch until they reach the place that craves him most. I move against him, but it isn’t enough. I want all of him.
Pressing a hand to his chest, I angle him onto his back and climb on top of him. His eyes go wide with surprise, but his smile is pleased. I bend down to taste his lips, positioning my hips over his. I move against him again, then down, until I glide over him completely. He fills me, finally reaching that ache. We begin to move in tandem. I hold his gaze, then watch as his hands move over every inch of me. Beneath his gaze, his touch, I grow bolder, freer. I’ve never felt so alive, so powerful, so strong. My heart glows with love while my body writhes with pleasure. Every moan that escapes my lips feels like a song, and his sounds of passion are an answering harmony. We continue our duet, creating a symphony. Our melody rises, reaching a crescendo. We become one instrument, one song, one perfectly tuned piano key poised to ring out its final note. When it finally strikes, release unravels through me in sync with Franco’s undoing.
We remain in place, several moments after, catching our breath. Our eyes lock, and we break into giddy smiles that say far more than words can. Then, after brushing my lips softly against his, I sink onto his chest and press my ear to the pounding rhythm of his heart.
43
FRANCO
Iwake to the feel of silken hair against my face, to the smell of rose, citrus, and sky. Beneath my hands lies soft, smooth skin. I open my eyes and find Ember nestled with her back against my chest, my arm over her waist. A surge of delight warms me while pure joy radiates down my arms. Memories of last night’s lovemaking return, and I feel myself tense against her. It isn’t just the physical pleasure I recall. It’s the way her energy fed mine and mine fed hers. The way my heart fell gaping open with every kiss I gave her, with every inch of flesh I offered for her to claim.
I close my eyes and breathe her in, sensing her peace, her contentment in sleep. This moment feels both foreign and familiar at once. Foreign, because I’ve never spent the night with a lover. Not like this. Not with someone whose heart has become woven with my own. But familiar, because Ember’s small form, her warmth, her vibrant energy, feels like something I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
