Finally.
His lips are softer than I expected, gentle as he tastes me for the first time. Careful. Like he's savoring something he's been denied too long. I melt into it, into him, letting myself feel without thinking about consequences or power dynamics or any of the thousand reasons this is complicated.
Right now, it's just us. Just this.
I make a sound against his mouth—half-sigh, half-whimper—and grip his shoulders harder, pulling him closer. Needing more.
That's when he loses it.
Whatever control he's been exercising shatters. He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding into my hair while the other bands around my waist, hauling me against him. The kiss turnshungry, demanding. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him without hesitation, gasping at the first deep taste.
Gods, he tastes good. Like the amerinth he drinks sometimes, sweet and burning all at once.
I clutch at him desperately, trying to get closer even though there's no space left between us. His body is solid against mine, all lean muscle and restrained strength. I want to climb him, wrap myself around him until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
He walks me backward, still kissing me like he'll die if he stops. My back hits the desk and he lifts me easily, settling me on the edge among scattered parchment. Papers crinkle beneath me but I don't care, can't care about anything except the way he steps between my thighs, pressing close.
"Keira." He breaks the kiss just long enough to rasp my name, then captures my mouth again. Deeper this time. Thorough. Like he's trying to memorize the taste of me.
I wrap my legs around his waist, anchoring him to me. Feel the hard length of him pressed against my core through too many layers of fabric. The friction makes me moan into his mouth, hips rolling involuntarily.
He tears away from my lips, breathing hard. "Fuck. Don't—if you keep doing that I won't be able to?—"
"I don't care." I pull him back, kissing along his jaw, down his throat. Tasting salt and something uniquely him. "I want you. All of you. I don't want to hold back anymore."
His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise. "You're killing me."
"Good." I bite gently at his pulse point, feeling his heart race beneath my lips. "You've been killing me for weeks. Watching you, wanting you, pretending I didn't."
He pulls back just far enough to look at me, eyes blazing. "I've been dying for you. Since the moment I saw you, I've been—" He shakes his head, like words aren't enough. "I can't think when you're near. Can't focus. Can't do anything except imagine touching you like this."
Heat floods through me at the raw confession. "Then touch me. Really touch me."
His gaze darkens impossibly further. "How much?"
"Everything." I don't recognize my own voice, thick with need. "I want everything."
"Keira—" His control is fraying, I can see it in the tension bracketing his mouth, the white-knuckle grip on my hips. "We should slow down. Think about this."
"I don't want to think." I kiss him again, pouring all my frustrated wanting into it. "I don't want to be careful or sensible. I just want you. Forget you're dark elf. Forget I'm human. Just—be with me."
Something in him yields. He kisses me back with renewed intensity, hands sliding up my sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts. I arch into the touch, desperate for more contact.
"Tell me what you need." His lips move down my throat, teeth scraping gently. "Tell me how to make you feel good."
"Your hands." I'm panting now, trembling with want. "Your mouth. I don't care, just—don't stop touching me."
His hands find the laces of my bodice, working them loose with practiced efficiency. I should probably wonder about that, about how many others he's undressed, but I'm too far gone to care about anything except getting these clothes off.
"I love this dress on you." He peels the bodice open, revealing the thin chemise beneath. My nipples are visible through the fabric, peaked and aching. His eyes fix on them, jaw clenching. "But I love seeing in you in less more."
"I wore it for you," I admit, panting.
"Beautiful." The word comes out reverent. "You're so fucking beautiful."
Before I can respond, he dips his head and closes his mouth over one nipple through the fabric. Hot and wet, tongue circling the sensitive peak. I cry out, hands flying to his hair, holding him there.
"Yes. Oh gods, yes."
