My magic flared brighter, golden light spilling across the room in waves. The bond between us sang, every emotion amplified until I couldn’t tell where my desire ended and his began.
This was what I’d been missing at the festival. This depth, this intensity. We’d had happiness then, had shared laughter and a tentative connection. But this was the foundation of something real, something lasting. Built on truth and understanding, on seeing each other’s flaws and choosing each other anyway.
I nipped at his lower lip, and he groaned, backing me toward the bed. My legs hit the edge of the mattress, and we tumbled onto it together, the kiss never breaking. He braced himself on his forearms, caging me beneath him while being careful not to crush me with his weight.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed against my mouth. “Tell me this is too fast, and I’ll?—”
“Don’t stop.” I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging him back down. “Please don’t stop.”
This time when we kissed, it was slower. Deeper. A claiming and a surrender all at once. His hand slid along my ribs, settling at my waist, his fingertips stroking circles that made me arch into him. Every touch was a question, every sigh an answer, as we learned the language of each other’s desire.
The past and present collided in that kiss, the memory of the so-called wizard who’d looked at me with wonder merging with the reality of the king who held me like I was his salvation. Six years of longing, of searching, of carrying pieces of each other without knowing it. All of it crystallized into this perfect moment.
When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, his eyes had gone completely dark.
“You’re incredibly sweet,” he whispered, tracing my kiss-swollen lips with his fingertip. “I don’t deserve you.”
I caught his hand, kissing his palm. “That’s not for you to decide.”
His laugh was shaky, disbelieving. Then he kissed me again, and I lost myself in the taste of him, in the certainty settling into my bones that this was what I’d been waiting for all along.
I melted into him, into the heat building between us with every brush of his lips. His hand slid from my waist to my ribcage, his fingers stroking beneath my breast in slow, maddening circles that made me arch toward him.
“Can I—” His voice broke. He cleared his throat, tried again. “May I touch you?”
The formality of it, the careful control even as his body trembled against mine, made something clench low in my belly. “Yes.”
His palm curved over my breast, and we both gasped. Even through my gown, the sensation was overwhelming. He explored me, learning the shape of me, the weight of me in his hand. When his fingers brushed across my nipple, I whimpered.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmured against my mouth. “So perfect.”
He kissed me as his hands continued their exploration, and I lost myself in the dual sensations of his tongue stroking mine while his fingers teased and caressed until I was panting and writhing beneath him.
When he finally pulled back, his eyes had gone darker than midnight. His gaze dropped to where his hand rested on my breast, then tracked lower, taking in the length of my body beneath him.
His clothing had become beautifully disheveled. His hair was mussed from my fingers, the first few buttons of his shirt had come undone, revealing a glimpse of collarbone and chest. My immaculate vampire king had been transformed into something wilder, more dangerous, and infinitely more appealing.
My own appearance must have been equally telling. My elaborate hairstyle hanging in loose tendrils around my face. My gown wrinkled where his hands had gripped the fabric. I could feel the flush spreading from my cheeks down my neck to my chest.
We were two people who’d finally stopped pretending they didn’t desperately want each other.
His gaze tracked the path of my blush, his pupils dilating further. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now? How many nights I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this, all flushed and wanting only for me?”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat, mesmerized by the hunger in his expression.
“I want to see you.” The aching honesty in his voice made my pulse race. “All of you.”
“I want that more than anything.”
He sat back on his heels, giving me space to sit up. His hands went to the fastenings of my gown, but they shook so badly he fumbled the first button.
“I’ve got it.” I reached up to help, but he caught my hands.
His throat worked. “I’ve imagined this so many times. Let me do this for you.”
How could I deny him when he looked at me like he’d die if he didn’t continue?
I lowered my hands, and he returned to the buttons, working them open with painstaking care. Each one revealed more skin, and his eyes tracked every bit of it with an intensity that made me feel beautiful, wanted in a way I’d never experienced before.
