Ariane:
He kissed me again, slower than before.
His hands explored my body with aching devotion, tracing fire down my hips, across my stomach, and over my heart. Not a single movement was rushed.
His mouth moved over my skin like he was memorizing scripture. Every inch. Every scar. Every story.
“Fierce,” he said. “Brilliant. Mercy carved into bone.”
I trembled at the praise, the honesty of it, and the unbearable love in his eyes.
I pulled his hand to my heart and whispered into the dark, “I want to feel you inside me. So come to me,” I begged.
His fingertips dug into the softness of my bare skin, hauling me so close to him that our chests were pressed together with such a perfect fit.
But he didn’t move to take me. Not yet. He brushed my hair back with aching tenderness, lips hove
