“Bedroom,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
I nodded.
He opened the door and urged me inside.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FERAL
Iopened the door to our suite and drew her inside, nudging it shut behind us. The latch caught with a solid click, and I locked it without looking. No interruptions tonight.
“Acorn can pick locks,” she said.
“He can also take a hint.” I stroked her cheek. “Tonight I’m choosing to believe he will.”
Her hand stayed in mine, and she looked up at me with that focused expression she got when she was piecing something together. Me, probably. I hoped she was getting it right.
The room was quiet, the fire in the hearth casting shadows across the floor. Acorn hadn’t followed us up. Good. He could chase his squirrel friend or hoard more duskburst or whatever he chose as long as he didn’t enter the bedroom. Tonight was ours.
I turned to face her. She was already close, her free hand coming up to rest on my chest like she was checking to see if I was real. My heart kicked harder under her palm. She tugged at my shirt.
I kissed her, a proper one with my hand cupping the back of her neck to hold her steady. Her lips parted right away, softand giving, and she made a small sound in her throat that went straight through me. I kept it slow, tasting her, feeling the way she leaned in, her body pressing against mine like she was investigating how we fit.
I’d taken what I wanted my whole life. She was the first thing I wanted to be given.
She kissed me back, her tongue brushing mine, and heat shot down my spine.
I wanted her. Fates how I wanted her. But I was starting to understand I was the kind of man who’d want to remember every single version of this.
I focused on her mouth and the faint sweetness from whatever she’d drunk at dinner lingering on her lips.
We kissed just inside the room until her breathing picked up and mine matched. I slid my hands down her sides, feeling the curve of her waist through her dress. She arched against me, breaking the kiss to look at me.
“Feral,” she said, her voice steady but with an edge I recognized from the other night.
“Victoria.” I walked her backward, further into the room, still kissing her, using shorter presses, and nipping her lower lip. She moved with me, her hands on my arms, steadying herself.
Stepping back, she reached for her gown, but I caught her hands, kissing each one. “Let me.”
Her eyebrows lifted, but she nodded, dropping them to her sides.
“I’ve been thinking about these laces since you walked out of the bedroom wearing this dress,” I said.
She blinked. “What in particular were you thinking about these laces?”
“I was thinking about the most efficient approach to undoing them.”
“That’s either very romantic or very strategic.”
“With you,” I tugged the first one loose, “it’s always both.”
The simple ties shouldn’t prove much of a challenge. I tugged the top one loose, and the fabric parted, showing a sliver of skin at her throat. I leaned in and kissed there, feeling her pulse jump under my lips. She tilted her head back, giving me room.
I stayed there a beat longer, just feeling her pulse going quick under my mouth. She was letting me do this.Iwas the one who got to do this. It felt like something I hadn’t earned, but I wasn’t going to question it now.
Another lace. The opening widened, exposing her collarbone. I kissed that too, slowly, dragging my mouth across the bone, her warmth setting me aflame. Her breath hitched, her fingers twitching like she wanted to touch but was holding herself back.
I kept going, lace by lace, kissing each new bit of skin as it appeared. Down her sternum, the swell of her breasts. The dress loosened enough that I could push it off her shoulders, ease it down her arms. She shrugged out of the sleeves, helping without rushing.
