“Tell me if you want me to stop.” The words vibrate against my skin. “Any time. Any reason.”
“I don’t.”
“Tell me what you ache for.”
The question cracks me open. Every partner I’ve had—every controlled, predictable encounter in my controlled, predictable life—none of them asked. None of them cared to know. It was always assumption, expectation, obligation.
This is different.
“I—“ My back arches as his tongue circles my nipple. “I ache to feel. I ache to stop thinking. I?—“
“This?” His hand slides lower, fingers grazing the waistband of my pants.
“Yes.”
“And this?” Lower still, cupping me through the fabric.
“God, yes.”
He strips me with efficient hands—until I’m bare beneath him. His gaze travels the length of my body, appreciating every scar and imperfection I usually hide.
I should feel vulnerable. Exposed.
Instead, I feel desired.
“You’re perfect.” He says it with conviction. With reverence. “Every inch of you.”
“You’re overdressed.”
His laugh rumbles through me. “Fair point.”
He stands to remove the rest of his clothes, and I let myself look. Take in the planes of his torso, the ridges of his abdomen, the scars that map centuries of battle across his skin. Lower. The evidence of exactly how much he aches for this.
Aches for me.
“Aisling.” My name sounds different in his mouth. Weighted. Precious. “I have to make you understand.”
“What?”
He climbs back onto the bed, settles between my thighs, props himself above me on his forearms. His warmth surrounds me—not just physical, but deeper. Resonating in my bones.
“This isn’t the claiming.” His forehead touches mine. “I crave that too—god, you have no idea how much—but this isn’t that. This is just us. No bonds, no marks, no magic. Just you and me.”
My heart aches with emotion I can’t name. “Why?”
“Because you deserve to be desired for yourself.” His thumb skims my cheekbone. “Not because of prophecy or blood or dragon instinct. Just because you’re you.”
A few weeks ago, I would have laughed at that. Would have pushed him away before he could get too close. Control was safety. Vulnerability was weakness.
But I’m not the same person I was when I arrived here.
“I crave you too.” The words feel like surrender and victory all at once. “For yourself. Not because of fate or instinct. Because you’re insufferable and chaotic and the only person who’s ever seen through my walls and stayed anyway.”
His inhale sharpens.
“Aisling—“
I pull him down and kiss him.
