The gentleness gives way to hunger. His mouth grows urgent against mine, and I match him. All the fear, all the grief, all those hours of watching him lie there and not knowing if he would ever open his eyes again, it all pours out of me and into this kiss.
His hands move to the hem of my tunic. He pulls it up and over my head, breaking the kiss only long enough to clear the fabric. Cool air hits my bare skin before his hands are on me, his palms hot against my ribs, my waist, sliding up to cup my breasts.
I gasp into his mouth.
He rolls me beneath him, and the furs tangle around us. His body covers mine, the solid weight of him pressing me into the pelts. He’s still weak. I can feel it in the tremor of his arms, in the way he lowers himself carefully. But there’s nothing careful about his mouth or his hands.
He kisses my throat, the hollow beneath my ear, the line of my collarbone. I pull at him, wanting him closer, needing to feel him against me, alive and whole and here.
His hand slides down between us. His fingers find me, stroking quick, sure circles on my wet nub. Within moments, I am gasping like I can’t get enough air. I’m already sensitive, already wanting, and his touch unravels me with an efficiency that would be maddening if it didn’t feel so good. I’m slick beneath his fingers, and he groans against my neck at the feel of it.
“I need you,” I tell him, pulling his mouth back to mine. “Now. Please.”
He doesn’t make me wait.
He shifts his hips and pushes into me, and the sound that leaves my mouth is swallowed by his kiss. He fills me completely. The stretch of it, the fullness, draws a low groan from both of us that mingles in the space between our lips.
He starts to move. Hard and fast, each thrust driving deep. There’s a desperation to it.
I wrap my legs around him and hold on. My fingers dig into the muscles of his back. He makes a rough sound against my jaw, his breath hot on my skin. The cave fills with the sound of our breathing, the soft slap of skin, the rustle of furs beneath us.
His hand grips my hip, angling me so that every stroke hits exactly where it needs to. The pleasure builds fast, coiling tight and low in my belly. I whimper against his shoulder, my body drawing taut.
“Look at me,” he breathes.
I open my eyes. His face is above mine, flushed with color that wasn’t there an hour ago. His eyes burn into mine, pale and fierce and full of something that makes my heart split open.
He slows. The frantic pace eases into something deliberate. Long, deep strokes that drag the pleasure out until I’m tremblingbeneath him. He watches my face as he moves, reading every flicker that crosses it.
I can feel myself unraveling. It builds in slow, devastating waves. Each roll of his hips sends me closer, and I can see from the tension in his jaw, from the way his breath stutters, that he’s right there with me.
“Sebastian.” His name comes out broken. I grip his shoulders, and my back lifts from the furs.
My channel goes tight as I start to let go.
He groans, dropping his forehead to mine. His hips shudder, and he pushes into me one last time, deep and full, and I feel him find his release. The warmth of it deep inside me. The pleasure crashes through me in long, rolling contractions that leave me shaking. I cry out, the sound muffled against his neck, and he holds me through it, his arms wrapped around me, his body pressed to mine.
We stay like that for a long while. Breathing together. Hearts slowing.
He presses his lips to my forehead. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth.
He rolls to the side, pulling me with him so that I’m tucked against his chest. I listen to his heartbeat, strong and steady now, and I’ve never heard anything more beautiful.
Then he tenses.
“Goddess.” His voice is rough. “I didn’t pull out. I should have. I’m sorry.”
I lift my head and look at him. His expression is caught between satiated and mortified.
“Don’t worry about it.” I press a kiss to his jaw. “I’ll ask the shifterfae healer for some black bark. I’m sure they will have it. There is no harm done.”
“Are you certain?”
I nod. “I don’t want a baby. Maybe someday, but…” I stop there.
Not with you.
I almost said it and then realized that I didn’t mean it at all. I do want Sebastian’s baby. I shouldn’t want the things I’m starting to feel, but there it is. Sebastian is not for me, and a baby would complicate things. I’ll find some black bark first thing in the morning. After my serious talk with Sebastian.
