9. To Burn and Ache #3
“New plan,” I informed him. “How about you stop taking your time and then later, when you’re ready for more, you can take all the time you want?”
The laugh escaped him instantly, but this time, Atlas threw his head back, the sound filling the room before he leaned down again. Now, brushing his nose lightly along my cheek until his lips hovered near my ear.
“I must say, I do enjoy this eager side of you.”
“Of course you do,” I muttered. “It feeds your ever-growing kingly ego.”
His chuckle vibrated through me.
“It’s nice to know that time between us has not dampened your desire, but only made it burn brighter.”
He could say that again. But instead of replying as such, my pride wouldn’t let me. So, I rolled my eyes instead, though there wasn’t much conviction behind the gesture, and he knew it.
“Yes, well, if you don’t make love to me soon, it’s going to become a bonfire, and then there’ll be nothing left but a pile of ash on your bed.
So, I suggest you do your kingly duty and satisfy the one you called…
your queen.” The last part came out as little more than a whisper as I leaned closer, my lips brushing his, and oh boy, the effect was immediate.
Every muscle in his body tightened above me, and for a moment, the playful banter vanished entirely. In its place was a look that made my pulse stumble.
Then came the growl of words.
Low.
Dangerous.
“Say that again.”
I blinked innocently and questioned, “That I’ll become a bonfire?”
His jaw tightened, and another growl rumbled from deep in his chest.
“You know exactly what I want, Alexandra.” His voice dropped lower. More urgent. “Now stop playing with me and give it to me. Tell me who you are to me.”
Something inside me melted at the demand.
I reached up and cupped his face between my hands, drawing him down until our foreheads almost touched. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity burning there stole the remainder of my breath.
When I finally answered, the words were spoken directly against his lips.
“Your queen.”
It was all it took, and the look on his face alone nearly would have brought me to my knees if I had been standing, as every trace of restraint seemed to vanish as he kissed me again, and this time, there was nothing playful about it. No teasing. No arguments. No challenge. Just certainty.
By the time he eventually pulled away, I was breathless and struggling to remember what coherent thought felt like. I didn’t have the chance to ask why he’d suddenly created space between us, because his attention had already shifted elsewhere.
Specifically, to my dress. His gaze traveled slowly over it before returning to my face.
“This dress,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you like it?”
The question caught me completely off guard, and I glanced down at it before looking back up at him.
“Not particularly, seeing as it was trying to kill me earlier by tripping me up,” I replied, and a knowing smile appeared.
“So, I have the dress to thank for slowing you down.”
“I guess you do,” I said with a little shrug, still unsure where this was going. But then something dangerous flashed through his expression. The kind of look that usually meant trouble.
For me.
For furniture.
Or, apparently, for clothing.
I opened my mouth to ask what he was thinking, only to immediately regret it when his hands moved.
The shocked gasp escaped before I could stop it as he suddenly ripped my bodice, tearing it straight down the center.
My breasts spilling free, and there was an instant relief of pressure from my tortured ribcage.
“Wow,” I said breathlessly as my eyes widened. “If this is how you thank the dress, I’d hate to see how you act when you’re angry at it.”
Atlas looked entirely unapologetic.
“I may have the dress to thank,” he said, his gaze traveling over my bare skin with heated appreciation, “But it was still keeping this beautiful body from me.” The sincerity behind the words made my stomach flutter. “And that,” he continued quietly, “I will not permit.”
The look in his eyes stole any teasing reply I might have expressed. Especially when he leaned closer, kissing my neck, and whispering in my ear,
“Not when I have plans for it and want it all to myself.”
The possessiveness in his voice should probably have concerned me. Instead, it did entirely unhelpful things to my heartbeat.
As the silence settled between us once more, Atlas’s attention remained fixed on me with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. The teasing had faded. The banter had softened. What remained felt quieter somehow, but infinitely more powerful.
The room seemed smaller.
The distance between us nonexistent.
And when his gaze slowly traveled over me again, his expression turning almost worshipful, the words that followed emerged little more than a rough whisper.
“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
The honesty in his voice hit harder than the compliment.
Words that continued to be expressed as he growled right over my heart…
"You make me ache to be inside you."