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"Fae—"

"Shush…" she said softly, tugging him along.

The journey felt longer than usual, or perhaps it was the tension between them that made them aware of every step. He could feel her mind buzzing through the bond, but she gave him nothing in words.

By the time they reached the house, he was thoroughly confused.

The wooden door slid shut behind them with a firm, final thud.

And before he could ask another question, she turned and was on him, pushing him back.

He barely had time to register the movement before her hands were smoothing over the short hair on his scalp, tugging him down, and her mouth was on his.

The kiss was urgent. All the restraint she'd been holding seemed to disappear. Her lips pressed hard against his, her breath warm, her urgency unmistakable as she deepened the kiss without hesitation while moulding her body against his.

He froze for a heartbeat, but then his arms slid around her automatically, instinct taking over. He lifted her easily, hands firm at her waist as he returned the kiss with equal intensity.

His restraint shattered just as quickly.

He kissed her like she was his last breath—like he still wasn't entirely convinced she was touching him like this. One arm tightened around her back while the other held her securely against him, anchoring her close, as though distance itself had become unacceptable. His cock pressed urgently against her softness.

The fear from the forest melted into something hotter and desperate as they tore at each other’s clothing.

He tore his lips away from the kiss first.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, chest rising hard, dark eyes searching her face. There was something almost pained in the restraint written across his features as his hands held her hips helplessly tight against his need.

"Fae..." His voice was rough. "Are you sure?"

Her lips tried to follow his when he moved away, as though the distance itself annoyed her. She stayed close, breath warm and sweet against his mouth. "You said you would give me anything I want," she whispered.

He nodded slowly, still watching her, still making certain.

"This is what I want," she said, nipping the side of his neck.

Whatever hesitation remained in his expression disappeared entirely as he drew her back into his arms and his lips descended on hers.

Chapter 42

He took his time undoing the belt of her yukata and pulling the edges apart like opening the gift he had always dreamed about. The stockings, along with her panties, were peeled down her legs by trembling hands before pooling at her ankles. She stepped out, now completely bare. He took a moment to kiss her soft belly while his hands skimmed her ankles, legs, the sides of her thighs to hold her hips in place. She watched with gleaming eyes as the bristle-like hair on his cheek left a red burn on her pale belly. She watched as he stood, still not losing contact, and pulled his tunic over his head and shucked his pants down.

"I have dreamt of this," he mindlinked as he warmed her with his body heat. "Not a stitch between our skin."

He stood for a long while, greedily drinking in the familiar contours of her body. The curve of her hip, the way her nipples tightened to dark rosettes in the cold, the graceful length of her exposed neck. Every inch of it, his to touch, his to taste. He cupped her soft breast, and his thumb teased her tight nipple as he watched her squirm and her pupils dilate with desire. He had never allowed himself the luxury of looking at her like this. Slowly, he pulled her close and pressed a bite into the side of her neck, leaving a mark. Her fingers explored his back, relearning the lines of muscle. But it had been too long without her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed down.

"On your knees."

She sank to the rug, and he knelt behind her. His hands moved over her hips, thumbs pressing into the soft give of her thighs. Her skin was warm and trembling. And when he pushed her forward onto her hands, arching her ass up for him, he felt her wetness smear his thigh. Gently, he dragged two fingers through the slick between her legs, slow and teasing. A moan was wrenched from her as he found her sensitive nub and his thumb moved in slow, teasing circles.

"So wet... You were made for me," he groaned low in her ear. "You were made to take me." Goosebumps rose over her skin. And when he lined himself up behind her and pushed in, there was a moment of resistance before her body yielded and her hips pushed back towards him. She gasped when he kept sliding in, parting resistant inner muscles. He gripped her hips and stayed there, buried to the hilt, holding still for a breath.

Her fingers dug into the rug as she gasped, "Move."

"Feel that?" he murmured against her back, but she couldn't answer. He leaned forward, letting the weight of his chest brush her back. "I said"—Blaidd's lips were at her ear while his hips drew back before pushing in again—"do you feel how deep I am inside you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

He rocked his hips forward, slow and deep, relishing every moment. She let out a garbled sound that wasn't a word. "I'm not pulling out, Fae."