“And we may want more children,” she said. “Besides, as unhealthy as your parents were, won’t we be just as dysfunctional? Denying what we want and…”
His strength ran out. Was there another way? His mind and body were working as quickly as possible to try and make a new bargain. To try and find a new way to be.
A way that would allow something. Just a touch, perhaps. A taste.
He wouldn’t lose himself.
He reached out, taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her steady as he leaned in to kiss her. Different than any other kiss they’d ever shared. It was slow. Methodical. There was no desperation. It wasn’t like they were trying to outrun a clock. It wasn’t because he was trying to punish her.
It was just a kiss. And there was something beautiful about that. It was a kiss, because they both wanted it. And who knew what it would mean later. It felt good now.
Emerald, and Andrei.
There was no Basilia. There was no Alabria. There was only this.
He picked her up and laid her down on the bed, glorying in the need that was building inside him.
This felt different from what had happened before.
Where the first time had been glorious and painful, aching because it was going to be all they had, and that night at the castle had been her punishment. This was an attempt to rebuild. Not tear down.
This was who they might have been if they’d been free from the beginning to choose who they wanted to be.
He kissed her. This wasn’t hurried. It was a slow exploration. His lips over hers, his tongue thrusting deep, sliding against hers, a leisurely tasting.
His heart was beating fast, and he reached down between her legs and pushed his fingers beneath her underwear, feeling how slick she was between her thighs. Oh she wanted him.
He wanted her more than he could possibly say. More than sanity. More than keeping his word. He wanted to go faster, and he wanted to linger in this moment forever.
She pulled at his shirt, and he let her draw it up over his head. Then he reached around and unzipped her dress, tugging it down, exposing her body. She wasn’t wearing a bra, only a pair of very brief underwear, and he dispensed of those two quickly.
Still, he just held his body against hers, kissing her. Indulging himself.
She moved her hands over his shoulders, his muscles, helped him take off his pants, everything else. She explored him, kissing her way over the acres of muscle, all of his skin.
And he returned the favor.
Committed the taste of her, the shape of her, to memory.
What if they could have this?
He was on fire with that realization that they could. They had already abandoned everything. They had already burned it all to the ground. They’d rebuilt into this, so why not have this? Why not have each other?
Why not try?
Maybe they didn’t know how. But they could learn. They could learn, and then they could always, always havethis.
She gasped as he kissed her neck, moved down to her breasts, down her stomach, between her thighs, where he feasted on her. She was the most glorious dessert he’d ever had. All slick and sweet like honey. He wanted to gorge himself on her forever.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her up into a sitting position, her knees on either side of him. She lowered herself down onto his stiff, aching staff, taking him in slowly, inch by excruciating inch. She gripped the back of the headboard, their eyes locked on one another’s. As she rode them both toward oblivion.
She flexed her hips back and forth, then rose up slightly, the feel of her tight wet body around him almost sending him over the edge into oblivion.
She established a rhythm that carried them both over the edge, and when he tightened his hold on her hips, and thrust up inside her, shouting her name…
She was his.
His.
