After three nights in that dungeon, he was the only thing that felt real. My tether. In his eyes, I saw myself as no one had ever seen me.
Smart, sure, capable.
He stared back, his breath shallow, jaw clenched like he was holding something behind his teeth. Water clung to his chest and shoulders, the ends of his hair curling damply at his jaw. His gaze moved over me as my fingers moved over him, slow and reverent.
Something passed in front of his eyes. A cloud of uncertainty.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, voice ragged.
I pressed myself up against him, arms wrapping around his neck. My shoulder throbbed, and I didn’t care. His erection pulsed hot and thick between us, and when I looked down at him, my fingers threaded into his hair. His lips parted for me, and I kissed him.
He groaned into my mouth, his hips jerking involuntarily under the water.
“If you don’t carry me to that bed right now,” I whispered when I pulled away, “I’ll never forgive you.”
A flicker passed over his face—need, yes, but also anguish. Hunger knotted with restraint. His hand came to the back of my neck, warm and steady.
Then he crushed his lips to mine, and it was all heat and need. One fluid motion brought us both out of the tub, water cascadingaround us. I locked my legs around his waist as he stepped over the rim, carrying me.
He walked us to the bed. I barely noticed until the mattress met my back and he came down over me, his hands trembling where they held me.
Sylvanwild could have beenon fire. I didn’t care. Rhiannon could have been at the door. I didn’t care.
This court had taken what it wanted from me. Now I would take what I wanted.
Dorian’s hand swept over my hair, eyes lidded on me. His other arm caged me in on the bed, his body pressed against me from sternum to hips. His eyes roved my face like he would memorize the contours.
I angled my head, lips curving. “Looking for something?”
One hand came up and brushed the angle of my jaw. “First time I’ve seen you without leaves in your hair.”
I wrinkled my nose at him. “Don’t get used to it.”
Above me like this, his mouth seemed impossibly lush. I leaned up and nipped at his bottom lip, tugged it between my teeth. He groaned into it, pressing his mouth to mine. His tongue parted my lips, sweeping in and sliding over my own. He tasted delicious, like the fresh water from Virellan Falls.
His smell filled my nose; his hand cupped my face, and all at once, everything felt more urgent.
Not once in my life had I felt this way, this needy and empty and wanting for a man. Not just a man—him. This one, whose lips and taste and smell felt soright.I needed more of him. I bucked my hips against him, hands sliding down his sides.
Between us, his erection pulsed. He broke the kiss, lips draggingover my cheek, down to my jaw, over my pulse. “Need to taste you,” he murmured against my throat. “Been dreaming of it. Please.”
Please.
He’d been dreaming of it.
He was asking my permission.
I opened my eyes, catching sight of his dark hair. No man had ever tasted me like that—and with him, I found I wanted it. Badly. “Yes,” I whispered.
“Yes?” Dorian kissed a line down my sternum, over my belly, his breath warm and slow as though he were savoring me already.
“Yes,” I said, louder, fingers threading into his hair.
When he reached the heat between my thighs, he met my gaze—his eyes dark, endless—and then lowered his mouth. The first swipe of his tongue over my slit, from entrance to clit, made my spine bow off the bed.
“Gods,” I breathed, fisting the sheets.
He groaned like he’d been starving for me. His tongue laved with purpose—long, languid strokes up my center, circling my clit before drawing it gently into his mouth. When he slipped a finger between my lips, I gasped. He lifted his gaze, and suddenly his eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them.
