Page 58 of Shadowborne: Reckoning

She gazed at me, wide-eyed. Stunned.

20. Only Yours

SOUNDTRACK: Fix You by Tommee Proffit, Stanaj, and Staarz.

~ BREN ~

I gaped at him, standing there, fully dressed, and offering himself. Utterly. I could feel him in the bond. He was surrendered. Pleading with me to connect. He meant every word.

And it made me want him more.

Really want him. A lot.

He didn’t move, and his eyes didn’t wander. He stared at me, searching my gaze, looking for any clue—”

“Take off your cloak,” I breathed.

He inhaled sharply, but nodded and reached for the button at his throat, tugging the cloak off and tossing it aside to reveal his shirtsleeves, tucked into buff trousers. His shoulders rose and fell once, then he went still again, waiting.

Swallowing hard, I pushed out of the bed, grateful for the nightgown I’d worn because it made me feel less revealed. Even though I wanted to be revealed to him, there was still a flutter of fear in my chest. So, I thanked God for the thin, nearly sheer cotton that swathed my body to my ankles as I crawled out of the bed to stand at his toes, my head craned back to keep meeting his eyes because he’d never looked away.

Then, with only a tiny tremor in my fingers, I reached for the top button of his shirt and pressed it through the buttonhole. Then moved onto the next.

Donavyn never stopped watching me. He didn’t raise his hands, or touch me—I thought he might start undressing me as he usually would. But even though his gaze was avid, he didn’t move as I unwrapped his body like a present.

A present just for me.

Then, when I had all the buttons undone, and the sides of the shirt hanging open to bare him, I just looked at him. Drank him in—and couldn’t resist leaning forward to softly kiss the skin right at the center of his chest, where I felt the bond.

Donavyn dropped his chin to watch me and blew out a breath, but he didn’t touch me.

I had to wrestle a little to tug his shirttails free, because I hadn’t undone his belt. But I kissed his chest again as I got it loose, then stepped back to grab one cuff and pull the sleeve off his arm, instructing him quietly to pull his arm out, which he did.

He stood, the shirt hanging off his shoulder on that side, and still covering his other. I bit my lip, letting my eyes trail down his torso. Then, because I was still nervous—I placed one hand on his stomach, grabbed the sleeve in the other and began to walk around him slowly.

He lifted the arm to let me pass under, then dropped it again—by which time I ran fingers up to the scars at his shoulder, then down his spine, admiring the way his muscles rolled and flexed at the slightest movement.

When I trailed a finger straight down the divot of his spine, he shivered and a surge of something hot and powerful clenched in my belly.

Immediately followed by a flash of fear.

He felt it, because he turned his head to look at me over his shoulder, but I wasn’t ready to talk, so I stepped right up behind him, letting the shirt drop so it hung off his other shoulder, then pressed my forehead into his spine and wrapped my hands around his sides.

I felt his chest expand, then he cleared his throat. “Bren… may I touch your arms? Your hands?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

His calloused palms flattened on my forearms, then slid up, towards my wrists, slowly, his fingers playing along my skin and raising the hair on my arms. Then, he slid his fingers between mine and gripped them, holding me to him.

And I felt so warm, and safe, and wanted… I could have stayed there all night and day. But the fire in me, the part of me that held no fear, needed him.

The moment I moved my hands, he let me go. I was touched, and frustrated in the same breath.

Reaching up to where the shirt still hooked over his shoulder, I slid fingers under it, nudging it off, so it fell down his arm, tugging that sleeve free until it dropped to the carpet and bared his torso entirely.

I let my fingers trail along his side again as I circled him once more, coming to stand in front of him, between him and the bed.

He stared at me with a yearning hunger that was so sweet and so heated, I could barely hold his gaze.