Page 177 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

Her eyes were wide with a question as she stared up at me, and I shook my head in disbelief.

“You are… stunning,” I whispered, reaching for a tendril of her hair that curled around her shoulder—it was all down now, after that elaborate twist Diaan had forced on her.

I felt her relax and almost frowned.

“Did you truly think I wouldn’t like it?” I asked, surprised.

She gave a hesitant smile. “No,” she admitted. “But there’s always the thought…”

I took her face in both my hands, shaking my head again. “Then, let me put that thought to rest forever, Bren: When I look at you in any set of clothing—or none at all—I see nothing but the woman who sets my heart and body on fire. That will never change.

She put her hands over mine on her face and her eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”

I scoffed. “It’s not something you need to thank me for—”

“Yes, Donavyn. It is. Too many women will never hear those words. I wish everyone could. What you’re giving me is precious. So… thank you.”

She leaned up on her toes, and I took her mouth without any further words.

The tension between us was soft. Anticipation with growing urgency. My heart banged in my chest, but only because she gave so much of herself that I clamored to honor it.

And when my body grew urgent, and her breath began to rush, I picked her up and carried her back to the bedchamber, still kissing her, her hands clawing through my hair, mine gripping her body, both of us growing frantic as the bond simmered between us.

Need was a tangible thing that required soothing—a language spoken through eyes and touches and hammering hearts.

When we reached the bed, I didn’t lay her on it immediately, but set her on her feet and broke the kiss. She gave a small protest when I turned her back to me, but I stepped right up behind her and teased fingers under her hair to tug it back from her neck and tuck it over her shoulder so I could lean down and taste the skin there.

She inhaled deeply, slowly, her skin pebbling under my kiss, her weight shifting back to rest against my chest. She turned her head, tilting it to give me better access and lifted her hand, reaching back to claw fingers into my hair and scrape my scalp, sending a wash of goosebumps down my spine.

Soon I opened my mouth on her neck and sucked, letting both hands slide down her body, following every curve, until the nightdress was a soft hindrance and I began clutching, gathering, pulling it up her body until I could reach underneath and found more pebbled skin on her thighs, and a sweet gasp in the air when I touched her.

My heartrate shot up another notch, and my breathing grew heavier as she grew languid in my hands, relaxing back into me, her body rippling in response to my touch. And what a beautiful response it was.

I tugged that nightdress up, over her head, pulling it loose and tossing it aside as she arched and I dove for her, kissing, laving with my tongue, stroking all of her—following the sweet curve of her waist, sliding fingers between her thighs, palms flattened on her stomach and teasing up to cup her beautiful breasts and take the weight of them.

She bit her lip when I teased one nipple with the pad of my thumb, and her chest began to rise and fall quickly, her breath growing louder.

She arched when I touched her, her hands thrown back to grip my shoulders, as if I grounded her, as if her body might float up and away without that grip.

I knew the feeling.

My touch grew harder, faster. I grasped and clawed, pulled her hard against me, turned her head with one hand, and swallowed her gasps when she reacted to my growing desperation.

And then, in my exploration, I slid one hand down her belly to slip against the heated parts of her that would welcome me—and I groaned when I found her already wanting. Already ready.

“God, Bren…”

She gave another small whimper and shifted her weight, widening her stance to give me better access, arching her back and rolling her hips into my touch, raising her breasts so I could feast my eyes and watch myself touch that puckered round.

And between us, the thrum of that bond glowed and pulsed. Heat. Joy. And trust.

My mate was a gift. A perfect, beautiful gift.

But in that position, as she reached back, still arching her back so her ass and shoulders pressed against me, there was a hollow space between us. I thrilled when she reached between us to find me with her hand, stroking softly at first, against my leathers. But then she gripped the belt length and tugged, pulling at it awkwardly in this position.

I had to let her go to tear off my clothing—because I’d meant to take my time, but she was ready. It was mere moments, mouth clamped on her shoulder, and body brushing hers, before I was naked completely and could pull her against me, skin to skin.

We both moaned.