Her heartbeat sounded loud in her ears as he moved her hand—slowly, purposefully. Sliding. Squeezing. Her breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sigh as she let him guide her.
He groaned softly, his forehead tipping forward, his eyes closed.
“See what you do to me, Ambrosia?” His voice was rough, thick with restraint. “Never doubt your beauty, your allure, your magic. Or how deeply I want you.”
Ambrosia could only nod, unable to find her voice. Her entire body thrummed with awareness, nerves lit up in anticipation.
Then he shifted, and suddenly he was above her, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, his body sheltering hers.
He kissed her—softly at first, like a question, his mouth barely brushing hers.
Ambrosia parted her lips instinctively. “Yes,” she murmured.
His second kiss was more deliberate, more sure—his mouth molding to hers, coaxing, deepening. She felt the heat of it down to her toes.
"Ah, ma douce Ambrosia.” My sweet Ambrosia. “You drive me mad."
Then he kissed her again—hungry this time, his mouth slanting over hers with increasing intensity.
Her hands, tentative at first, slid up his arms—his skin hot and taut beneath her fingertips—until they found his shoulders, then his neck. She threaded her fingers through the soft curls at his nape, anchoring herself to him.
He groaned low in his throat and opened her mouth with his, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. The heat of it shocked her. But it only took a moment for her to respond, her own tongue meeting his, shyly at first, then bolder, curling and pressing as they learned each other.
Dash lowered himself until there was no space between them. Her breasts pressed against his chest, skin touching skin, two wild hearts beating together.
She tasted him—heat, spice, his essence—and gave herself over to all of it. Without thinking. Without hesitation.
Their mouths moved in rhythm, deeper now, their kiss no longer a question, but a claiming.
She felt surrounded. Claimed. Desired.
“I cannot deny you this.” His mouth brushed the shell of her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Us. I cannot deny us this.”
Another kiss followed, reverent at the base of her throat. “But tonight will be about you, princesse. I want you to know what it can be. That there is more to making love than duty. That you can find pleasure, you should be cherished.”
And in that moment, she believed him.
Believed that these feelings—with this man—could be hers, if only for tonight.
Ambrosia drew in a breath and let it go slowly, lifting her hips, opening her legs to make room for him. The movement felt bold, daring… right. Of course, she was no virgin. But she had never been wanted like this. She had never… wanted like this.
She lay back, heart pounding, and closed her eyes—half from anticipation, half from fear that it might not be different after all.
“Ambrosia…” His voice coaxed her back to the present as his lips brushed the corner of her mouth. So gentle. So sweet. “Open your eyes, princesse. You’re safe.”
She did, startled to see such warmth in his gaze.
“Relax.” One of his hands cupped her breast again, kneading the soft flesh, his thumb sweeping over her nipple in a slow, lazy arc that made her breath hitch. “Tell me what you like,” he murmured. “Do you like this?”
All she could do was sigh. And then nod.
His mouth replaced his hand, lips closing around her nipple, and then—his tongue, warm and searching, circled her. When he drew her into his mouth, tugging just slightly with his teeth, it was as though he was pulling at strings inside her.
She arched her back.
“Yes,” she whispered. “That. I like that.”
He paused only to look up at her, his hair mussed and falling over one eye. “Bon. But don’t stop there. I want to hear you, ma belle. I want you to tell me everything.”
