With a thin sheen of sweat draping every inch of her skin, her large chest heavy and bare, topped with dark nipples. Mirela’s hands twitched with the need to touch. Still on her knees, still worshipping this creature before her, she cupped her breasts and watched the other woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head.
So, she liked to have her breasts touched… Good. Mirela would remember that when they were intimate again, because she knew they were going to be intimate again.
Claire was perfect. And with that realization came a quiet wave of dread. Because soon it would be her turn to be seen. To be bare in a way she had never dared to be.
Her body was not like Claire’s. Hers was scarred and uneven, rough and taut. Nothing like the softness and perfection that was Claire. She hesitated, her throat tight, her fingers trembling. But when she lifted her eyes, Claire was looking at her with such tenderness that the fear began to fade.
“What is it, Mirela?” Claire asked softly, her fingers brushing against Mirela’s jaw with such tenderness it nearly undid her.
“My skin,” Mirela whispered. “It’s not like yours. I am… not perfect like you. I don’t want you to find me horrifying—or to run away. Not now, when I finally have you this close.”
“Mirela…” Claire’s voice was barely a breath. Her smile was so gentle, so achingly sincere, that it almost broke Mirela’s heart. “Whatever is underneath your clothes,” she murmured, “I will love every inch of it.”
Love.
She said she would love it.
Mirela frowned, a shadow crossing her features.But Ferron… he always said—
No.
She would not think of him. Not now. Not when Claire had spoken those words, when she had looked at her as though there was nothing to fear, nothing to hide.
Taking a steady breath, Mirela rose to her feet. With trembling hands, she grabbed the edges of her green blouse and pulled it over her head, her eyes squeezed shut as the fabric fell away. Then, she hooked her thumbs into her trousers and let them slide down.
The chill of the night kissed her bare skin, raising goosebumps along her arms.
With her eyes still closed, she heard Claire gasp. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe Claire regretted her words, maybe she wanted to leave…
Before she could retreat into shame, warmth found her—the soft,steady press of Claire’s hands.
One hand traced the scars along her right shoulder, down her arm, across her hip and thigh. The other rested gently over her chest. Mirela’s breath hitched, her lungs refusing to obey as Claire’s touch drew her back into her body—into herself.
“Beautiful.” Claire said, planting a kiss on her right collarbone, then her breast.
Mirela finally opened her eyes. Their gazes locked just as Claire took her right nipple into her mouth while her other hand caressed the planes of her stomach, through her red curls, and touched the wetness between Mirela’s legs.
Mirela’s brows knitted together, her mouth opening into a silent gasp just as Claire slipped a finger through her wet lips.
This was too much, too soon. She could barely hold onto Claire’s shoulder; her legs were already about to give out.
“You are drenched,” Claire said, stepping closer, close enough to press her chest against Mirela’s. “All because of me.”
Claire’s skin was so warm it erased all those quiet, cold nights she had to endure to get to this specific night. All that coldness and hunger diminished the moment she kissed Claire’s lips.
“You should not sound so surprised,” Mirela replied. “You know exactly what you are doing to me.”
“Oh? What am I doing to you, Mirela?”
“You are unraveling me slowly, on purpose.”
Claire smiled, before biting her lower lip and lowering her head back to Mirela’s other nipple. Mirela grasped the back of her head, pulling her to her chest, enjoying the warmth of her mouth contrasting with the cold air around them.
Her legs became liquid. If it wasn’t for Claire guiding her to the bed, she would’ve surely made a fool out of herself by falling right there and then.
The moment Mirela lay back against the bed, her hand moved instinctively toward the cover. Before she could grasp it, Claire caught her wrist, shaking her head gently as she straddled her hips, settling over her thighs.
“Do not cover yourself.”
