Chapter 63 #2
His hard length beneath the towel pressed against her core making her breath snag.
The thin fabric of her leotard did little to disguise the sensation, and for a moment she went still, before pressing her hips down firmer against him.
The strangled sound that escaped her lips surprised her, and she felt Rell’s hands tighten at her waist in response, his mouth finding the curve of her neck.
She tilted her chin upward deliberately, a small act of will.
His lips moved down her throat, and she focused on the warmth of them, on the damp curl of his hair between her fingers, on the fact that this was Rell—that the hands on her were his.
When his teeth grazed her collarbone, she felt herself exhale for what seemed like the first time in minutes.
She reached up to unwind the vines at her neck but the trembling in her hands made it nearly impossible.
He took over, and the vines seemed to recognize his touch, relaxing their emerald embrace as he carefully unwound them.
The bodice of her leotard surrendered, slipping downward to reveal her skin to the night air.
She shivered as coolness swept across her exposed chest, her flesh pebbling in the sudden chill.
Rell’s gaze traveled over her newly bared flesh and she fought the urge to cover herself.
The hunger in his eyes was different from what she had learned to expect hunger to look like.
His palm found her breast, and she exhaled slowly, steadying herself against the flinch that wanted to follow.
His thumb brushed across its peak and the tension dissolved into something else entirely, a soft sound escaping her before she could decide whether to allow it.
His mouth replaced his hand. Her back arched toward him before her mind could intervene, her body making the decision her thoughts were still debating.
She focused on the warmth of it, the deliberateness, so unlike anything that had been taken from her.
His hands moved to the vines at her waist, fingers patient against the complex pattern.
Every point of contact between them seemed to heighten her awareness: the heat of his mouth, the tender pressure of his hands, the solid strength of his thighs beneath her.
She let her body take control, as much as she could allow, and rocked her hips against him, her body instinctively seeking more friction, more pressure, more of him.
The last of the vines surrendered, and the remaining fabric fell away from her body.
She went very still above him, her shoulders drawing inward, her weight shifting back toward her own knees as though her body were making a quiet argument.
Then her eyes found the empire robe draped across the edge of the bed.
She reached for it without explanation, slipping her arms through and wrapping the sides around her back, leaving the front open. She exhaled.
Rell watched her, his eyes never leaving her face.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a curve that held no judgment, only patience.
When she settled back onto his lap, the robe pooling around them both, her breathing deepened, the tightness between her shoulder blades melting away.
His fingertips traced the edge of the silk at her shoulder, a touch that said he understood this small armor she needed.
Her hands slid between their bodies, finding the knot securing his towel. With deliberate slowness, she undid it, feeling the fabric loosen. She pulled it away, exposing him fully to her gaze.
With nothing between them now, her body hovered above his, trembling with anticipation, a current of nervousness running through her.
Her mind attempted to pull her out of the moment, dredging up the fear she had felt before, of the memories of pain and ownership.
She glanced at Rell, his soft gray eyes studying her intently, not making any decisions for her, just waiting patiently, offering her the space to choose.
His hand settled lightly on the back of her neck. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky. “We can stop here.”
She shook her head, answering both questions. She didn’t feel okay, but she didn’t want to stop. If she was going to end things now, it would be because she wanted to, not because her past demanded it.
“I’m… I’m okay. I just need your help.”
Rell nodded and cradled her head against his shoulder, his arm strong and supportive around her back as he helped her position herself.
He moved with exquisite care, letting her set the pace as she lowered herself onto him.
The initial pressure made her breath catch, her body tensing.
The memory of having no choice in this before tightened through her chest, old fear trying to root itself beneath her skin again. She acknowledged it—but stayed anyway.
“Just breathe,” he murmured, palm warm against her skin as he traced soothing circles at the base of her spine, giving her time to adjust to their connection.
She breathed. The fear didn’t vanish so much as step aside, and she found herself present in her own skin—the warmth of him, the solid reality of his shoulder under her cheek.
The discomfort faded as her body relaxed.
She began to move, tentatively at first, and then with more intention, each small decision was its own quiet victory.
“That’s it, Sunshine.” He kissed her temple. Rell’s hands guided her hips, supporting her weight as she rose and fell above him.
His restraint was visible in the locked tension of his jaw, in the deliberate stillness of his hands.
She studied him—this man holding himself back for her—and felt something loosen in her chest. She shifted the angle of her hips, a conscious choice, and was answered by a low groan that moved through his whole body.
“Elora,” he breathed, her name like a prayer on his lips. His hands trembled slightly against her hips, wrestling between the instinct of tightening and forcing them to remain loose.
She increased her speed, letting her body chase the wave of desire building, even as some frightened part of her wanted to go still and quiet. Her hands found his shoulders and gripped them like something solid in a current.