“Wife,” he breathed with what sounded like a little wonder and a little awe. “My wife.”
Poppy stepped close, her palm against his chest. “And my husband.”
He dipped his head and kissed her—slow at first, tasting of plum wine and reverence. His hand cupped her cheek as if he needed the grounding, as if holding her steady meant steadying himself.
When she tugged gently at his collar, he exhaled sharply. “Careful,” he whispered. “If you look at me like that… I won’t last the night.”
She kissed his jaw, feeling the shiver that ran through him. “Mingxi…”
His breath hitched. “Yes.”
“I want you.”
The sound he made was barely human.
He kissed her again, deeper this time, his arm sliding around her waist to lift her effortlessly. Her back pressed to the wall, his forehead resting against hers, breath warm and unsteady.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered, as if begging her not to. “Tell me to slow down.”
“I won’t,” she breathed. “I want all of you.”
His control snapped, but not in a rough way. In a way that felt like devotion breaking open. He carried her to the low bed, laying her down with almost ceremonial care. His hands trembled as he brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“Yueguang… may I?”
She nodded. “Please.”
He bent to kiss her throat, slow and savoring, as if memorizing every place she let him touch. His hands slid along her sides, thumbs stroking circles that made warmth pool low in her belly.
When her robe loosened, he stilled. “Are you sure…?” His voice cracked, soft and disbelieving.
“You lying here… looking at me like that. Yueguang, I might fall apart.”
She guided his hand to her thigh.
“I want you to.”
Magic shivered around them.
His tails fanned out and then wrapped around her hips, her legs, her waist, instinctive, protective, heated with foxfire. Not tight—never tight—but suggestive, devotional, wanting.
“Mingxi…” she whispered, her fingers curling into his hair.
He kissed her again, and this time it wasn’t slow. It was hungry, honest, everything he’d been restraining for weeks.
Their bodies fit together as though they had been molded to match. Her thighs parted under the gentle sweep of his hand, and he inhaled sharply against her mouth, something almost broken in the sound.
“Poppy,” he whispered. “I love you. By every flame in my blood. By every tail I’ve earned. I love you.”
“Then show me,” she whispered. “Show me all of it.”
He touched her like devotion. He worshipped her breath by breath. His mouth traced warmth along her throat, her collarbone, the slope of her shoulder, leaving heat blooming everywhere he kissed.
She slid her fingers under the edge of his robe, feeling the taut line of his back. He shuddered at her touch, whispering her name like a vow.
The world narrowed to warmth and foxfire.
Tails curled around her thighs, stroking softly, each touch sending electricity through her. His breath trembled against her skin.
