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His free hand reached for the ties at the back of my dress and paused. I laughed. “This one is different. The ties are in the front.” He did not comment, just loosened them without breaking the kiss, fingertips grazing my nipples as the fabric fell away. Before either of us noticed, the last of it was gone, and his hands were on my bare skin.

He didn't touch me again immediately.

He simply looked at me.

There was grief in his face that had not been there the last time I had seen him.

I looked away.

He tipped my chin back toward him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"For not getting to you."

"Colsar—"

"It should have been me." He stopped. "It never should have been you."

"No."

He shook his head.

"I was supposed to protect you."

His voice cracked.

"Since you've been gone...it is as though a piece of myself has been cut away."

He searched my face as though he were still trying to convince himself I was real.

"It wasn't cut away," I whispered. "It's right here."

Something inside him broke.

A low sound escaped him, somewhere between relief and grief, and he gathered me against him with desperate strength. His mouth found mine with a need that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with the unbearable certainty that I was finally here.

I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers sliding into his hair as every fear, every lonely night, every impossible mile between us dissolved into the kiss.

Only when our lungs demanded it did we finally pull apart. He rested his forehead against mine, his breathing uneven.

"Asha Bear..."

His palms skimmed up my sides, warm, cupping my breasts and stroking his thumbs across until they tightened. He broke the kiss only to press his mouth there, and his hands continued downward, sliding the fabric at my hips down my legs until I stepped out of it.

I reached for him, tugging his shirt over his head, fingers tracing the scar along his ribs and the line of muscle at his stomach before pushing at his waistband. He helped until we were both bare. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me closer while his mouth returned to mine. One hand slipped between my thighs, stroking through the wetness already there with slow fingers.

He walked me backward to the bed, laying me down and following. His weight pressed me into the sheets as we kept kissing. His fingers slid inside me and I let out a small moan. I touched him the same way, fingers wrapping around him and stroking until his breath hitched.

He made a sound low in his throat and his forehead dropped to mine. We stayed like that, both of us breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, his hand still moving between my thighs and mine still moving against him, neither of us ready to stop touching the other yet.

His eyes found mine in the dark. He did not rush. He lowered himself slowly, kissing down my belly until finally his mouth was between my legs, his tongue parting me in one long, careful stroke.

That alone undid me. Before he had done anything else, my back arched and I began moaning and trembling, release cresting so fast it startled us both. A groan rumbled from his chest, low and disbelieving, like the sound of me coming apart for him was the first thing that had felt real in far too long.

He did not stop. His grip held firm and he pushed my thighs down, tongue thrusting and curling, drawing me right back up again. My hands fisted in his hair, and my moans grew louder, my thighs trembling against his shoulders until the pleasure coiled so tight it bordered on pain. When release tore through me a second time, he moaned against me, drinking every pulse, every shudder, until sweat beaded on my chest and my body was limp and gasping beneath him.