My scar. The scar her father gave me.
My heart hammers in my chest as she approaches it. She runs her fingertips along the shining white length of it, and then—with painstaking slowness—she presses a kiss to it.
I choke. Heat rises up my back into my neck and into my face, springing tears to my eyes. I fight them back, swallowing hard, trying to hide the feeling. I jerk my head to the side and squeeze my eyes shut.
Gods, I’m ashamed. I have this beautiful woman, this woman that I’m absolutely insane about, in my bed, and I’m about to fucking cry—
She reaches for me, taking my face in her hands. Then she presses kisses to my eyelashes, to the corner of my eyes, and fuck, I can’t hold on—
I collapse into her, the tears wrenching themselves from me. The loneliness, the guilt, the regret. All of the terrible things I’ve done, all of the lives I’ve taken, all of the times I’ve felt sick with the shame, the times I’ve hated myself, the times I’ve wished I wasn’t here. Standing on the cliff, feeling the blade coming for me, wanting it to come. The selfishness of wanting her, the fear of losing her. All of it comes pouring out, dissolving into her, melting away into her perfect comfort and understanding, her kindness and forgiveness, the balm my soul needs to rest.
I love her. I’ve known it for a while, but I haven’t been able to fully say the words, even to myself. But now, here, the feelingunleashes itself from within me. I’m coming undone, and I don’t even care.
I’m in love with her.
I let the feeling consume me, let it drive away the darkness, let it shine its incandescent glow into the recesses of my mind, the shadowy, secret places I’ve kept for myself alone.
And then, with her beautiful face hovering above me, with the flickering firelight dancing in her eyes, kissing her skin with warmth and heat, I feel the echo of it.
I feel my love echoed in her heart.
I kiss her, sighing my confession onto her lips.
Then I lose myself completely.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Itaste Ronan’s tears on my lips, salty and sweet, as I hover over him.
There’s a feeling between us that’s more than the raw desire and lust I felt while he bathed me. While he tortured me. Damn his respect. I didn’t care that I wouldn’t have been able to feel it all. Just seeing him touching me would have been enough.
Seeing him naked for the first time. Seeing the length of him, the hardness of his cock and his body, and not being able to touch him?
Agony.
I didn’t think I’d be able to feel anything but the all-consuming desire he built up in me over those long, excruciating hours of denial ever again.
But here it is. A feeling I can’t name. I’m not ready to say it, to give it form in my mind, but I know what it is.
And instead of holding it back, I let the wall that holds the feeling back fall. It crumbles somewhere deep within me, and I feel the sweet release of letting go, letting the floodgates open.
The reverberation of the feeling is all-consuming. It’s the most intense thing I’ve ever felt, an endless echo not only of the passion and desire between us but of the care we have for eachother, the intense need to see the other happy, the compulsion to give ourselves completely.
It echoes on my skin as I touch him, as I feel him pressing himself to me, as he kisses my mouth and then my neck. As he clutches me to him, pulling us upright until I’m facing him, my hips straining to meet his.
He grabs my ass and pulls me to him as he lowers his mouth to my breasts. He greedily kisses and licks them, sucking each nipple into his mouth until I’m moaning and grinding myself wet against him, begging him to enter me.
He takes my face in his hands and kisses me deeply. I feel the tingle of his light on my skin. I’m not sure if he means to do it or if he can even control it, but it feels wonderful. I beg him in my feelings not to stop.
Then he pulls back and looks me in the eyes.
“I’m yours,” he says. I kiss him fiercely, and he responds, lifting me and throwing me down onto the soft bed. His strength, his power. It turns me on even more. I’m melting, molten under his touch. “Only yours, Sylvie.”
He kisses my neck, reaching low and rubbing my clit as his cock presses against my entrance. I moan and wrap my legs around him, inviting him in. “Please, Ronan,” I beg. “Please take me.”
He groans, low and deep, his eyes rolling with his arousal.
“Silphium?” he asks.
