Harkin tangled his hands into my hair, the backs of his knuckles scraping my cheekbone. He squeezed his eyes shut, head shaking back and forth in halfhearted denial.
“Seren.” My name was weighted in his mouth.
I stroked the soft curls away from his forehead—smoothed the line between his brow—then pulled away. “I make my own decisions. You do not get to decide for me. The council does not get to decide for me. The people do not get to decide for me. Not in this.”
Harkin closed the gap between us, almost as if he did not even notice his own movements. “I don’t know who you want me to be—what you want me to do.”
“I want you to be yourself. And I want you to be mine.” I sat up, pulling the chemise from my body with a decisive movement. Blankets pooled around my bare hips.
“Goddesses damn you,” Harkin cursed, reaching for me with the look of a man starved—rapturous. His hand stopped before he made contact.
I laid back against his pillows once again, breathing in his familiar scent as his eyes traced the length of my exposed body.
“When your parents named you after the stars, they were thinking far too small.” Harkin’s voice rumbled, deep with desire. “You are the moon. You areeverything, Ren.”
I gasped as he leaned over me, fingers pressing against the hollow of my hips and the soft skin of my belly.
My body ached with wanting.
Harkin brought us face to face. His pupils were blown, his warm brown eyes morphed into something darker as he regarded me under the light of the moon and stars.
My fingers traced the subtle scars on his face—down the bridge of his nose, trailing to the curve of his lips. Just a few of the small imperfections that made him utterly perfect in my eyes.
“Harkin,” I whispered, eyes fluttering shut.
He tutted, hand circling my throat gently. “You want this? You want me?”
“Yes.” My fervent confirmation was breathy, airless.
“Eyes open, then. I want you to watch.” He ghosted a featherlight kiss across my lips, and I moaned a desperate sound.
I might have thought to be embarrassed, but Harkin did not give me the chance as he moved down my body, biting the most sensitive skin then soothing the pain with his tongue. His hands treated my body as an instrument—the alternating soft and rough strokes of his fingers brought breathy gasps from my parted lips as they touched my neck, my breasts, my hips.
“Ren.” Harkin’s voice was reduced to a growl as he tasted my name on his tongue.
“Please,” I begged, back arching as I tried to close the distance between us.
Harkin lowered the length of his body against mine, and I groaned at the feel of his weight on me, his desire evident as he pressed against me.
He finally kissed me, capturing my lips between his with bruising force. My hands gripped his shoulders, nails scratching at his skin as I worked my fingers across his back.
Harkin pressed one hand between our bodies, lowering it to dip between my legs. The other cradled my jaw so tenderly I could cry. Instead I moaned, my mind free of every thought except him.
This.
When I could take it no more—the devouring kisses and firm touches leading me over the edge—I did cry. Tears of relief ran over my flushed cheeks, dripping down the side of my neck. Harkin kissed them away, caressing me gently. He smoothed my sweat-dampened hair from my face.
Our bodies finally came together, and it was no longer frenzied. We were passionate and high on hearts bursting with feeling, achingly slow in our movements.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, the soft waves were sweet agony on the pads of my sensitive fingers. I pressed my nose to his skin, breathing deeply before sucking a bruise on the hollow of his throat. He bit my ear with a groan, and I writhed beneath him.
Our bodies rocked together steadily, then faster until nothing in the world could possibly matter. Nothing except for us and that night.
When we fell asleep—legs tangled and bare, sticky skin pressed together—I thought I had never been so happy in all my life. It had never felt like that with anyone else. I had never felt my heart swell near to bursting with emotion.
I wondered if that was what love felt like.
I thought I already knew the answer to my own question, and I wondered if Harkin might love me, too.
