And she understood. Every touch, every moment between them, only intensified the bond. It wasn't just the sex, but the intimacy—and he hadn't expected that when he'd agreed to this. If they continued in this vein, one day soon, the bond would be unbreakable.
"Would it be so very bad?" Her eyes were enormous pools of shadow as she gently asked the question. "It's only been a few days, and yet the very thought of losing you, or our bond, sends a shiver down my spine. It's become... a part of me."
Lucien bowed his head, pressing it into her palm as she stroked his face. "I don't know anymore. I want you."
She swallowed. "I want you."
"I know," he told her, shutting his eyes. "I can feel it." He felt the certainty along the bond they shared, but with that certainty came another. "You're keeping secrets from me."
Ianthe froze.
"You don't have to tell me. I know you are."
"Do you not have any secrets from me?" Her voice was roughened honey.
Lucien looked up. Of course he did. "I keep wondering how far I can trust you."
Those dark lashes covered her eyes. "So do I. But you must know: I would never seek to harm you, Lucien."
"No?"
"No." She wet her lips. "You have become... important to me. I don't know if it's the bond, or if it's simply because of what we've shared. Sometimes it feels inevitable." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You. Me. Sometimes it feels like fate. No matter what I do, I somehow always keep coming back to you."
"You mean the way you were the one who brought me in a year ago?"
"Yes," she said, dropping her gaze, and yet it was not the complete truth. "I ache," Ianthe told him, her eyes sad. "And it's all you. Always you."
"An ache? Here?" His palm spread flatly over her middle.
Those brilliant eyes flashed as she looked up.
"Or here?" he whispered, sliding his hand lower until his palm cupped her between her thighs.
Licking her lower lip, she closed her eyes and nodded. The aching sense of yearning in her expression made his heart beat a little faster. Perhaps they were both still too wary to meet each other in the middle, yet here, only here, was it easy. This was easy. To want. To take.
"You want me," he said. "Say it."
A roll of her hips brought her heated flesh closer to him. "I want you."
"And what part of me did you want?"
But she slid her hand behind his nape and drew him closer. Lucien leaned his knuckles on the piano keys, obeying her with another discordant wash of noise. Their faces were but an inch apart, her breath caressing his mouth. His gaze lowered to those sweet lips. How he wanted to taste them... It ached within him, like a hard fist curling around his cock. His hands slid over her thighs, dragging silk and cotton with them, until he could feel heated flesh.
Kiss me, he dared.
Kiss me, came the reply.
But he was not yet ready to lose.
And neither was she.
Thwarted need flashed across that pretty face, and then she turned it into his neck, her small teeth sinking into his flesh with a faint, teasing nip that spoke of her frustration. Lucien's mouth parted, and he tilted his face up, allowing her access as she soothed that slight pain with a heated lash of her tongue. A trembling psychic touch brushed along the back of his thighs, making him flinch. It came again, higher, stronger, more sure of itself, until it felt like a feather dragged over his balls.
Lucien caught her wrists. They stared at each other. Her psychic touch vanished as he slowly set both her hands behind her on the piano, a silent admonition in his gaze. This was not her moment to command. It was his.
One finger traced the smooth skin between her clavicles and headed south to her full breasts. Ianthe swallowed.
"You were made for a man's touch," he whispered.
