A deep, thorough, possessive kiss that was an answer to every unasked question, a fulfillment of every unspoken dream. He poured all the years of silent wanting, all the aching loneliness, all the worship he’d held in check, into that single, devastating kiss. His hand tightened in her hair, holding her to him, while the other slid down her back to press her hips even harder against his, letting her feel the rigid, undeniable proof of exactly how much he wanted her, too.
The possessive heat of the kiss was a roaring fire in his blood, a primal satisfaction that eclipsed everything else. He could have stayed there for an eternity, lost in the taste of her, the feel of her body yielding to his, the silent promise in the way her hands clung to him. The world was Mei, the tree at her back, and the crushing, glorious weight of four years of longing finally being set free.
But even through the haze of raw desire, a different instinct kicked in. It was quieter, deeper, and just as powerful. Protection. He could feel the distant murmur of the party, the soft glow of the lanterns casting them in a revealing light. This moment, this raw, sacred unraveling of them, was not for anyone else. It was not an exhibition. He would never expose her like that, never let this beautiful, fragile beginning be tainted by curious eyes or casual glances. She deserved more than that. They deserved more than that.
With a Herculean effort that felt like tearing his own soul in two, he started to pull back, intending to break the kiss, to give them a moment of sanity. He’d barely moved a fraction of an inch, a sliver of space forming between their lips.
But Mei was lost. “No,” she panted. “Than…please.” Her words cut through him, telling him the thought of losing his mouth, even for a second, was unbearable. A desperate, instinctual need took over. With a soft, pleading sound, she surged forward, pulling him back to her. Her hand, already buried in his hair, tightened, her fingers curling, gripping the thick strands with a possessiveness that sent a bolt of pure lightning straight to his core. Her other hand fisted the fine silk of his shirt, pulling him down, holding him captive, as if she feared he might vanish. Her leg curled around his, fitting her sex tighter against his cock.
The move was so unexpected it knocked the breath from him. Whatever restraint he’d been clinging to burned away, the thought of not here erased by the undeniable truth of her wanting him just as fiercely as he wanted her. He surged back into her, his mouth crashing over hers, the kiss turning savage, all hunger and heat and breathless need.
A low, raw sound tore from his chest as he met her with equal ferocity, their mouths colliding in an open-mouthed kiss that left no room for mercy or restraint. His body betrayed him, hips driving forward in a hard, involuntary grind that pressed his arousal against her, once, then again, until the sensation overwhelmed him. His hand slid from her back, urgent now, curving around her ribcage to cup the soft weight of her breast through the silk of her dress. His thumb found her, rough and relentless, and her response shattered against him, a broken cry spilling into his mouth as her body arched into his touch.
“Than,” she whimpered.
The sound of his name shattered whatever fragile balance he had left. It wasn’t a plea or a demand so much as an invitation he could no longer refuse.
His mouth left hers, but only to trail a hot, open kiss down the column of her throat. Her pulse hammered against his lips, a frantic, wild beat that matched his own. His hand left her breast, slid down her side, his fingers tracing the curve of her ribs and the dip of her waist until they found the hem of her dress. The silk was cool and slippery against his heated skin. With a single, decisive motion, he pulled the fabric up, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Her breath hitched, a sharp, audible gasp, but her body didn't tense. It melted, her legs parting slightly in a silent, breathtaking invitation. He slipped his hand inside, his fingers encountering the damp, warm silk of her panties. The feel of her, so hot and ready for him, nearly sent him to his knees. He groaned against her neck, a low, guttural sound of pure, agonized need. He was so hard it was a physical pain, a throbbing ache that demanded to be buried deep inside her, but he forced that instinct down. Not here. Not like this. This was for her.
He hooked his fingers in the delicate fabric and pulled it aside. His hand cupped her, his palm resting against the soft, swollen folds of her sex. She was impossibly wet, slick with the same desire that was pounding through his veins. He slid one finger through her heat, then a second, entering her, and her head fell back against the tree with a soft thud, a cry escaping her lips. He found the tight, sensitive bundle of her clit and began to work it, slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of her ragged breaths. He pressed the heel of his hand against her, grinding his fingers deep inside her, his thumb circling her with relentless, expert pressure.
He watched her face, transfixed. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her lips parted, her brow furrowed in a mask of pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her hips began to move, riding his hand in a desperate, primal rhythm that was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
She tightened around his fingers, the tension coiling in her body, winding higher and higher until she finally shattered. A soft, broken sob tore from her throat as her orgasm crashed through her, her body convulsing, her inner walls clamping down on his fingers in rhythmic pulses.
He didn't stop. He couldn't. He watched her, utterly mesmerized, as she unraveled right there in his arms. Her head fell back against the tree, exposing the long, vulnerable line of her throat, her lips parted on a silent cry that was all breath and sound. He watched the flush spread from her cheeks down her neck, felt the tremors that wracked her slender frame, and felt a wave of possessive, tender awe so powerful it made his own chest ache.
Her sob was too loud, too raw for the quiet garden, a testament to a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Without thinking, he covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cry, kissing her with a deep, absorbing tenderness. It was a kiss that said I see you. I have you. I'm here.
As the tremors slowly subsided, her eyes fluttered open, dazed and dark and shining with tears of release. Their gazes met and locked, and the world fell away. He saw everything in that moment, all the years of silent longing, the quiet friendship, the deep, abiding affection she had held in check. He saw it all, and he fell. He fell headfirst into the deep, bottomless well of her love, and it was a landing he had been waiting for his entire life. It was everything.
He held her through it, his mouth pressed to her temple, murmuring her name, his own body screaming for a release he was determined to deny. He would save every drop of his come for when he could finally be deep inside her, where he belonged.
She clung to him, her body pressed tight like she wanted to crawl inside him. He rested his forehead against hers again, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gusts that mingled with her own. His body screamed in protest, a living, throbbing entity of pure need, every nerve ending still humming with the violent urge to take, to claim, to lose himself completely right there against the tree. But he held her, just held her, his hands gentle on her back, a silent anchor in the storm of their own making. He was shaking with what had just happened, the battle between his instinct to possess and his need to protect raging a war inside him.
Her soft panting against his lips slowed as he sensed her confusion, her readiness to give him everything right here, right now. He opened his eyes, looking into her dark, passion-dazed gaze, and poured every ounce of his intention into one word.
"Soon," he whispered.
The word was a vow. A promise of privacy, of a bed, of a door he could lock, and a world where the only thing that existed was her skin against his. A promise that this wasn’t a moment stolen in a garden, but the beginning of everything.
He gave her a heartbeat to catch up to it.
She didn’t waste it.
Mei kissed him again and again, small, urgent presses of her mouth as if she couldn’t help herself, as if she needed to taste the truth of him one more time, then one more after that. Each kiss landed like punctuation, breathless and wanting, her hands still fisted in his jacket as though letting go might undo them.
He let it happen just long enough.
Then, before his resolve slipped entirely, Than rested his forehead against hers and exhaled, steadying them both. His hand slid to the small of her back, guiding instead of claiming, turning her gently away from the shelter of the tree.
“Come on,” he murmured, low and certain.
He steered her out of the shadows and back toward the lantern light, back to the murmur of voices and music and the soft clink of glasses. The party rose up around them again, ordinary and unreal all at once.
But something had shifted.
