Chapter 21 #2
“You nearly bled out two days ago,” he growls, voice low and dark. “You’re not fine.”
I smirk against his skin, pressing another slow kiss just below his navel.
“Valen said I’m healing well.”
Thane inhales sharply, his stomach flexing beneath my lips.
“He also said I can get back to regular . . . activities.” Another kiss. Lower. “Although I’ll be a little sore.”
Thane groans, his grip tightening in my hair, his other hand clenching in the sheets.
“Don’t say another man’s name right now.”
His voice is strained, low, rough—and gods, I feel the heat in it. I smile against his skin, dragging my tongue over the sensitive spot just above the waistband. His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale cutting through the quiet of the room.
“Amara—” My name is half warning, half surrender. All heat.
I hum against his skin, satisfied. Because now, I know I’ve won. He’s not just losing control, he’s giving it to me.
I keep my eyes on his, watching every shift, every breath, every flicker of restraint unraveling beneath my touch. Slowly, deliberately, I grasp the string of his pants with my fingers and pull.
Thane’s chest heaves, his eyes darkening as he watches me, his fists curling in the sheets. I inch backward, sliding off the bed as I tug his pants down, feeling the slow, intoxicating drag of fabric against his skin.
Sharp pain flares in my ribs but I breathe through it. I’m not done and I won’t be done until he’s mine again.
His breathing fractures, shallow and uneven, his muscles tensing beneath me. I pull them all the way off, letting them drop to the floor, then climb back over him, straddling him, pressing my hands against his chest.
Thane lifts his head, watching me, his pupils blown wide, his lips slightly parted as if he can’t decide whether to stop me—or surrender.
Then, his head falls back against the pillow, a groan slipping from his throat. He surrenders.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You will be the undoing of me.”
Pain pulses faintly from my side, but it doesn’t stop me. I lean down, trailing kisses along his stomach, feeling the way his body responds—tightening, trembling under my touch.
Thane’s breathing is ragged now, his hands gripping the sheets, his entire body wound so tight I can feel the restraint vibrating through him.
I hover over him, his impressive length erect, and let my breath ghost across the sensitive skin, teasing. Then, I flick my tongue against the swell of his head, slow and deliberate. His entire body shudders. I swirl my tongue around it, savoring the way he groans, deep and broken.
“Amara—”
I close my mouth over him, taking him in slowly, inch by inch, until I slide down to the hilt.
Thane gasps, his head falling back against the pillow, his fingers digging into the sheets. His breath stutters as his muscular thighs tense beneath my hands.
“Gods—” His voice is raw. “Your mouth feels so fucking good on me.”
The words land like a promise . . . like a warning.
I don’t just want to taste him. I want to remind him—this body, this moment—it’s real. I slide my mouth up, then down, slowly, savoring the way his body reacts beneath me.
Thane gasps, his breath ragged, his grip tightening on the sheets.
I do it again.
His thighs tremble, his muscles flexing beneath my hands as I take him deeper. I grip the base of him, stroking in time with my movements, my tongue gliding over him as I slide my mouth over him again and again.
A deep, shattered groan escapes him, his fingers twitching like he wants to touch me—to thread through my hair, to pull me closer—but he’s fighting it.
And gods, I love watching him unravel at my touch.
Thane’s breath shudders, his body taut beneath me, trembling with restraint. Then, a rough, desperate groan.
His eyes meet mine, wide, his pupils so big I see only a trace of that smoke gray ringing them. But beneath the heat, I see it: awe. Like he still can’t believe I came back to him.
“I need to be inside you. Now.”
His hands find me, firm but careful, gripping my arms as he pulls me up to him. His touch is gentle, careful where he places his hands, mindful of my healing wound even as his desire burns.
I barely have time to catch my breath before his lips crash against mine, hot and demanding, stealing what little control I had left.
We’re sitting up now, his hands framing my face as his mouth claims mine. The kiss is deep, tongues tangling, reaching, searching—like he’s trying to drown in me.
I kiss him back just as hungrily, just as desperately.
Then he pulls away—breath ragged, lips wet and swollen from mine. His eyes burn into me, dark and unwavering, anchoring me to this moment. But then . . . he frowns. Just slightly. His gaze shifts as he looks at me, something shadowed flickering behind it.
And I can’t help but wonder—why? Why here, now, when I’m straddling his bare body, skin pressed to skin? Why does he suddenly feel . . . distant? Like there’s something he hasn’t said. Something he’s still afraid I’ll see.
But before I can say anything, he moves.
Slow. Deliberate. Worshipful.
He slides down the thin strap of my sleep gown, fingers grazing my skin, dragging trails of fire. Then, his lips follow, pressing a slow kiss to my bare shoulder, like I’m something holy.
A shiver rolls through me, my breath catching in my throat.
He takes his time, easing the fabric down, pulling it away, exposing me inch by inch. When my gown slips to my waist, his eyes flicker back to mine, checking to see if the pain is too much—if this is okay.
I nod, wordless, aching for him.
Thane pulls it over my head, his hands gentle. He lets my sleeping gown fall to the floor, forgotten. One hand settles on my hip, the other cups the back of my neck.
Then, with a feather-light touch, he traces his fingers down past my collarbone, then along the outer curve of my left breast, soft, reverent.
I tilt my head, a question in my eyes. Why the shift in energy?
I know I’m still healing, but he’s being more careful with me than necessary. The healers cleared me yesterday. Valen already has plans to put me back into training today.
But Thane doesn’t speak. His gaze drops—to my breasts. His fingers trace the curve of one—light, exploratory. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his touch. Then his hand closes around it—firm, warm. Slow. Measured.
I inhale sharply, my back arching, head tipping back as sensation rolls through me. I feel the wetness gathering at my slit and lose myself in the sensation of his hand on me.
His hand glides from my hip to my back, bracing me just before his mouth closes over my breast. I bite my lower lip, a gasp caught in my throat—every nerve sparking, alive beneath his tongue.
No words. It doesn’t feel right to speak—like I’d be breaking some quiet promise between us. What this is. What this means.
I thought it would be like the first time. Like when he surprised me with a picnic at the lagoon. Frenzied. Desperate. All pent-up need and barely restrained hunger.
Fucking.
But this . . . this is different.
Slow. Careful. Deliberate.
And not just because of my injury. What I started between us this morning, Thane has shifted into something else entirely. Something softer. Deeper. Not just desire—but devotion.
And by the gods, I am utterly lost to it.
He doesn’t suck or bite. Doesn’t pull. Doesn’t pinch. He licks—slowly. Grazes his teeth, just enough to tease.
His hand doesn’t grip or claim. It caresses. Cups. Traces. Learning me. Worshiping me.
Then, he moves again, shifting us, guiding me down with careful hands. His touch is steady as he gently lays me onto my back, mindful, protecting me even now.
But there’s nothing hesitant in his gaze. There’s only Thane.
He stills, leans his forehead to mine and whispers: “Tell me if it hurts.”
It doesn’t—not even close. So I offer a small smile to let him know I’m okay.
“You don’t know what you do to me,” he breathes.
He settles between my legs and I feel his arousal press against my thighs. A calloused hand glides down my side, steady and careful. His eyes burn into mine, something raw, something unspoken passing between us.
Then he guides himself to my entrance and pushes inside. I gasp, my fingers gripping his shoulders, holding onto him as he fills me.
He moves inch by inch, watching me, reading me, making sure I can take all of him. It’s gentle, careful. His forehead drops to mine again, his breath warm against my lips, his arms bracing around me as he moves, slow and unhurried.
I ignore the dull ache at my side and wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper, drowning in the way he feels inside me. With a slow, aching rhythm, his hips roll into mine, making me feel every inch of him. Making me tremble beneath him.
A shiver runs down my spine, the pleasure building, curling inside me like fire and silk.
“Thane . . . ”
His name falls from my lips—breathless.
He moves like he has all the time in the world. Like he wants to give me everything.
And gods, I take it all.
Thane keeps his pace slow, each thrust measured—being so careful with me. But it’s his eyes—locked onto mine—that hold me.
There’s something there, raw and consuming. Like he’s giving me more than just his body—and doesn’t know how to say it.
But I don’t have the words to ask. Not now. I’m too lost in the moment, caught in the way his body moves with mine.
I’m floating. No—soaring. I relish the way he makes me feel. Lifted by him. Anchored in him. Completely undone and more whole than I’ve ever been.
His rhythm doesn’t falter, but I see it—a flicker across his face, something breaking inside him. His breath catches, his fingers tightening against my skin for just a moment. Something in him is unraveling. Not from lust. It feels like more, but I don’t know what.
Then, he thrusts deeper.
I cry out, my head tilting back, pleasure pulsing through me like wildfire. He finds a spot deep inside me that shatters thought—sends sparks rushing through my veins, unraveling me from the inside out.