Chapter 12
Imove to obey, settling onto the mattress, the cool sheets against my naked skin making me shiver.
I watch as Aiden unfastens his belt, the soft hiss of leather sliding through fabric loops sending a complicated thrill through me.
He doesn't remove his pants, just loosens them enough to allow more movement.
When he joins me on the bed, hovering over me with his weight supported on his arms, I feel small beneath him. Not in a frightening way, but in a way that makes me feel precious, protected.
Something fierce and tender flashes across his face.
He lowers himself until his chest brushes against mine, the contact sending sparks across my skin.
His mouth finds my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there.
I gasp at the sensation, my head falling back to give him better access.
"That's it," he murmurs against my throat. "Let me hear you."
His teeth graze my pulse point, not quite a bite but a gentle scrape that makes me arch beneath him. My hands move to his shoulders, feeling the muscles shift beneath my fingertips as he braces himself above me.
"Hands above your head," he commands softly.
I hesitate for just a moment before complying, stretching my arms up and crossing my wrists above my head. The position makes me feel exposed, vulnerable, but in a way that sends heat pooling between my thighs rather than fear crawling up my spine.
“Hold onto the bed frame.”
I wrap my fingers around the posts of the headboard.
The cool metal feels grounding beneath my fingers, an anchor in the swirl of sensations Aiden is creating with his mouth and hands.
My chest rises and falls with quickened breaths as he moves lower, lips trailing fire across my collarbone, down to the swell of my breast.
"Keep your hands there," he murmurs against my skin. "Don't let go unless I tell you to."
I nod, tightening my grip on the bed frame. This restraint—chosen, not forced—feels nothing like the bindings at the facility. There, I was helpless, powerless. Here, with Aiden, I am giving my power freely, knowing it will be returned.
His mouth closes over my nipple, and I gasp at the wet heat of his tongue. Pleasure spirals through me, sharp and sweet, making my back arch involuntarily. His hand splays across my ribcage, steadying me as his teeth graze the sensitive peak.
"You taste so good," he whispers, his breath cool against my damp skin. "I've wanted this since I first saw you."
The confession sends a wave of heat through me. Since he first saw me? That day at the facility, when I was trembling with fear and confusion? It seems impossible that he could have wanted me then, when I was so broken.
"Even then?" I whisper, unable to hide my surprise.
His eyes meet mine, dark with desire but clear with truth. "Even then. Not because of your submission under duress, but because I saw glimpses of the real you fighting to survive."
His mouth returns to my breast, drawing another gasp from me as his tongue circles my nipple. His free hand skims down my side, over the curve of my hip, fingers tracing patterns that make my skin prickle with goosebumps.
"So beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "So responsive."
His hand continues its journey down my thigh, then back up along the inside, approaching the heat between my legs but not quite touching where I'm beginning to ache for him. The anticipation makes me squirm beneath him, my hips lifting slightly in silent invitation.
"Patience," he says, the word both gentle and commanding. "We have all the time in the world."
His command sends a thrill through me, even as frustration builds. I want his touch where I'm growing wet and achy, but I also crave this slow exploration, this careful reintroduction to pleasure without pain.
Aiden's mouth travels lower, leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach. My muscles tense and flutter beneath his lips, my breathing becoming more ragged with each inch he conquers. When he reaches the curve of my hip, he pauses, looking up at me from beneath his lashes.
"Still okay?" he asks, his breath warm against my sensitive skin.
"Yes," I whisper, my fingers tightening around the bed frame. "Please don't stop."
A smile curves his lips, something predatory that makes heat pool between my thighs. "I have no intention of stopping," he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Not until you've remembered what pleasure feels like."
He settles between my legs, his broad shoulders gently pressing my thighs wider apart.
The position should make me feel vulnerable, exposed, but all I feel is anticipation.
His blue eyes hold mine as he lowers his head, and the first touch of his mouth against my sex sends a jolt of pleasure so intense I cry out, my back arching off the bed.
"That's it," he murmurs against me. "Let me hear you."
His tongue traces me with deliberate slowness, exploring every fold, every sensitive spot.
I struggle to keep my hands wrapped around the bed frame as waves of sensation crash through me.
This is nothing like the clinical touches at the facility, nothing like the pain disguised as pleasure they tried to condition me to accept. This is pure, unfiltered bliss.
When his tongue circles my clit, I moan, unable to contain the sound.
The pleasure is almost too much after so long without gentle touch.
Aiden's hands grip my thighs, holding me open for his mouth as he works me with his tongue.
Each stroke brings me closer to something I've almost forgotten—the building tension, the climbing pleasure that promises release.
"Aiden," I gasp, my hips lifting to meet his mouth. "I can't—it's too—"
"You can," he says, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes meet mine, dark with desire. "Let go, Lana. I've got you."