“Not enough to make me stop.” This time, it’s his turn to freeze. His expression turns serious, brow furrowed. “Unless you want me to stop.”
Maybe we should. Maybe I should let my desire be quelled here and now. Maybe I’m a sinful creature for continuing, knowing what tomorrow brings. But, as I’ve already determined, I’m not the kind of fae to seek salvation.
In answer, I tear free the remaining buttons on my shirt and shrug it off. I lift myself up on my forearms, holding his gaze, daring him to resist me.
He doesn’t. His lips come to my shoulder, his hands to my stomach, my ribs. He trails his tongue down my chest and around the curve of my breast. When he reaches the apex, he flicks his tongue over it. I throw my head back, arching into the sensation. His lips leave too soon, and he kisses down the middle of my stomach. I’m already undoing my trousers when his lips meet my waistband. When I’m free of my pants, I target his next, undoing the closures and pushing them down. My eyes lock on what awaits, my pulse pounding in my ears. Then his lips are back to my stomach, then trailing lower. Lower. Lower still.
His lips tease my inner thighs and send me shuddering. His next kiss catches me by surprise, directly over the molten center of me. I tense at the pleasure of it, the vulgarity, the impropriety. His tongue comes next, slow and languorous over places I didn’t know could be tasted. I go limp as he draws unimaginable sensations with that devilish tongue. It’s almost too much to bear, but somehow not enough. I start to roll my hips, eager for something deeper, harder.
I know what I need.
With a hand on his shoulder, I gently push him away. He obeys, and I turn him onto his back. I straddle his hips, then run my hands over the planes of his chest. So badly do I wish to kiss every inch of his flesh like he did me, but it’s too great a risk. I’ve never dared test the limits of my lethal kiss. Even if I had, with Nimue’s secret curse, there’s a chance I could kill Dorian by kissing him anywhere. I bite my bottom lip just to remind myself I’m in control. Then, slowly lowering myself over him, I let him fill me.
We return to our earlier slow pace. Our eyes meet and I feel a new sense of vulnerability. Of being seen. Loved. My breath comes out long as I rock against him, acquainting myself with his feel, the burn of his gaze, the pounding of my heart as I watch his lips part. Once we find a rhythm, our heated passion returns. His hands grip my hips. I remain as upright as I can, keeping my lips firmly out of reach should our desire turn mindless. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes. I feel him shift beneath me, and my lashes flutter open. He lifts himself up to sitting, his arms moving behind my back, our chests pressed together. The feel of his warm flesh against my breasts has me shuddering, and the shift in position brings on a whole new level of sensation.
And yet…
“Dorian,” I breathe. “We shouldn’t be this close while we do this. It’s too dangerous.”
He pulls me closer, stopping when our lips are mere inches away. “I like a little danger. A good boxer knows how to dance with it.”
“My danger could kill you.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know? I could close my eyes and accidentally brush my lips over yours.”
“Then keep your eyes open. Keep them on mine.” He moves beneath me, caressing a hand down my back, the other up the front of me.
A moan flees my lips and our rhythm returns. Locking my eyes so closely with his as we continue our dance is a new experience. Strange and intimate. No gasp of his escapes my notice, no moan made without getting to see the expression that accompanies it. It takes my passion to a whole new level, and I think it might be the same for him. Every time my lips part, every cry I make, his desire seems elevated. I see the exact moment he reaches the edge of pleasure, and it’s enough to bring me to mine. He fists my hair, and I bring my hand to his jaw. Release burns hot at my core, deeper than it ever has before. It’s equal only to the warmth in my chest, the love that radiates from my heart, pounds with every beat, roars through my blood like a wicked current.
Pressure builds deeper, deeper, begging to be unleashed, and I can feel it twisting my expression. He sees it too, his face like a mirror. Just when I think I can’t handle any more joy, any more love, any more treacherous pleasure, I unravel with a moan. Dorian is unable to resist meeting me there, his own release chasing mine, a race, a battle. One where we both end as victors. We continue to hold each other’s gaze as the throes of passion send shudders through our bodies. The look on his face is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in the world.
It takes us several moments to catch our breath and several more to separate. When we do finally pull away, Dorian collapses on his back with a chuckle while I prop myself next to him. He tugs me into the crook of his arm and plants a kiss on my forehead, then begins to caress my back. I rest an arm over his chest and draw lazy circles over his sweat-soaked skin. The silence that follows is comfortable. Calm.
Finally, I speak. “Did you just break your vows?”
He gives me a wry grin. “I’ve taken an Order. I’m no longer beholden to vows of celibacy.”
I snort a laugh. “I doubt this is what the brotherhood had in mind.”
“It’s a loophole I’m perfectly fine with.”
“What exactly are your vows as a brother?”
He shrugs a shoulder, but the gesture seems to take far too much effort for his state of fatigue. “Our vows are long winded. At their core, they revolve around Saint Lazaro’s three main tenets—service, truth, and strength. The vows that matter most to the brotherhood are the ones we state at the very end of our initiation.With this body, I am a shield against sin. With these hands, I light His Holy Fire. With these lips, I speak salvation.”
I lift my head and give his naked form a once-over. “I’m not sure your body got the shield against sin part right.”
Another halfhearted shrug. “There are other ways to use one’s body to represent Saint Lazaro. One day, I have every intention of making vows that are even more important than the ones I made to the brotherhood.”
I smile, realizing what he’s suggesting. I let myself imagine the wedding we’ll never have. Lifting myself slightly over him, I study every inch of his face. Committing it to memory. To my heart. Tears threaten to glaze my eyes, but I blink them away.
His brow knits together. “What is it?”
My last remaining secret lies between us, but I don’t dare reveal it now. Instead, I settle on a truth I can share. “I love you, Dorian. Please don’t ever forget it.”
“I love you,” he says back, brushing his fingers over my cheek.
