-LILIAN-
The kiss deepened, a slow, tender exploration that soon ignited into something far more desperate. My hands, which had been resting on his chest, curled into the fabric of his sleep pants, holding him close. His own hands, still warm from my healing touch, tangled in my hair, tilting my head, deepening the connection. The apologies, the promises, the fragile truce—they all dissolved in the rising tide of pure, unadulterated need.
This wasn't just physical. The mate bond, finally acknowledged, finally allowed to sing, roared to life within us. It was a symphony of aching desire, years of denial and torment finally breaking free. Every touch, every breath, every pulse of our mingled scents became an affirmation of the connection we had fought so hard against.
He pulled back, just
