One of his hands slid from my shoulder to my waist, firm and sure. His other traced slow lazy circles across my thigh.
I looked at him, my heart thudding in my chest. Keane…
He kissed me.
It was full of heat and hunger. The world narrowed to points of contact—his mouth on mine, his hand splayed warmly across my lower back, the solid weight of him beneath me. Everything else fell away. This was just us. Just now.
My hands curled into his shirt, anchoring me against him. He kissed me again, deeper.
Unbuttoning my pajama top, he kissed each bit of skin as it was revealed—across my collarbone, down between my breasts. His hands trembled slightly as he worked the last button free.
Mari, he said softly, gazing at me. You’re so beautiful.
My careful, measured Keane—always so precise—undone by want. By me. The realization sent heat pooling low in my belly.
He cupped my breasts, kissing and nibbling at each nipple in turn.
I leaned back, closing my eyes and losing myself the sensation. After working and worrying all day, I need this. I needed to let myself go.
He pushed aside the papers, and laid me back on the rug. The fibers were soft beneath my bare skin, the fire’s heat licking across my skin. I watched him through half-lidded eyes as he stripped first me and then himself. The firelight caught on lean muscle and ink-stained fingers that knew every inch of me.
Keane, I whispered. I need you.
He growled low in his throat. Once his clothes disappeared, he was next to me, sliding his fingers between my legs. Warmth pooled inside me as he flicked them over my clit.
Look at me, he murmured against my neck, his breath hot on my skin. I opened my eyes and met his gaze—deep blue and completely focused on me. On us. His temple showed the faint tension line that appeared when he was concentrating, when he was determined to map every response, every gasp.
I moaned, wriggling beneath him and wanting more. I reached for his cock, running my hand along its length and tracing its familiar shape.
Turning me on my side, he lifted my leg, and slowly slid into my wetness. His fingers kept time on my clit while he picked up the rhythm.
Mari, he whispered against my neck. I love you.
I love you too.
We found our rhythm the way we always did—not perfectly synchronized. Where I pushed, he pulled. Where I hesitated, he steadied. His fingers read my body like one of his ancient texts, knowing exactly where to press, when to circle, how to build the pressure until I couldn’t think, couldn’t worry, could only feel.
The pressure that had been building shattered as I cried out, pressing back against him as pleasure rolled through me in waves. Keane’s rhythm stuttered, his grip tightening on my hip as he followed me over the edge. For a perfect, suspended moment, there was just the two of us, complete.
We lay wrapped together on the rug afterward, my back to his chest, his arm heavy and warm across my waist. The fire had burned down to glowing embers. Scout had curled up with Wisp near the hearth—even our familiars seeking comfort.
Your heart’s still racing, Keane murmured against my shoulder, his lips brushing skin.
So is yours. I could feel it against my back—that steady, reassuring thud.
He pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck and then another at my shoulder. We’re going to be okay, he said quietly. It wasn’t a question. It was a choice.
I threaded my fingers through his and held on. Yeah. We are.
The logs shifted in the fireplace, sending up a small shower of sparks. Outside, snow whispered against the windows. But here, in this moment, wrapped in Keane’s warmth with the embers dying down and our breathing finally slowing, I could believe it.
Not because I’d earned it. Because he wanted me.
9
Keane
THE CONTAINMENT WAS THREE LEVELS below ground in a secure facility. The air smelled like ozone and old stone—the scent of magic held under pressure for too long.
