Chapter 18 #2
Then, for one fleeting moment, something inside me whispers that maybe I don’t want a cure.
“I want you to touch me now.” I exhale the words in a rush.
A beat passes as that declaration settles between us. Then he issues a command like he’s been waiting years to say it.
“Come here.”
A charge hums through the air as I move toward him, a cocktail of nerves flooding my veins.
I’m keenly aware that what happens in this room tonight will alter me irrevocably. Something inside me has always known that he’d ruin me for anyone else. But if this is all we have, I want it burned into my memory for eternity.
I stop in front of him, my bare feet finding a home between his polished shoes. He’s so much larger than me, I have to look up to meet his gaze.
He’s a solid, immovable force who could do whatever he wanted to me, and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. That kind of power always triggered fear in me with other men.
There’s no denying Bran is dangerous too. But not to me.
I’ve been wrong about other people before. I’ve misjudged character, and I’ve given the benefit of the doubt when I shouldn’t. But I’ve never doubted that what we share is different.
When I come here, I’m at my most vulnerable, and he’s my calm, controlled protector.
He knows me intimately. The things I crave, the things that terrify me.
He knows exactly what to give me and when.
And while I swore I’d never let my guard down for anyone again, this is probably the closest I’ll ever get.
“Hello, dea.” His fingers trace the curve of my face. “Miss me?”
The raw hunger in his voice sends a rush of warmth through me, and when he drags his thumb over my lips, it ignites.
“Yes.” I close my eyes and let out a shuddering breath.
“Good.” He turns me in his arms, anchoring my back to his chest as he breathes me in. “Because this is where you belong.”
The heat of his possession wraps around me and doesn’t let go. It taps into something deep inside me I’ve tried so hard to numb.
It’s only temporary.
But right now, I’m his.
“No kissing on the mouth.” His lips ghost over my throat. “But what about here?”
A soft sigh of surrender escapes me, and goosebumps ripple over my skin as he kisses his way down to my collarbone.
He’s never done this before, and in any other circumstance, it would break my no-intimacy rule. But tonight, I want to free myself from the prison of my armor, if only for a little while.
His hands drift over my silk robe, and the familiar pull of his control is so intoxicating, I melt into his touch.
“Your body remembers me.” His observation is a warm caress against my skin.
I nod, and a deep sound of approval reverberates through him as his fingers sweep over my breasts.
I tip my head back, nipples tightening as a drunken, blissed-out feeling washes over me. Under his spell, the chaos in my mind slips away, and I let go.
It’s something I’ve never been able to do with anyone else.
Even after all this time, he’s still attuned to my needs. He doesn’t rush. He takes the time to ground me in the safety I so desperately need.
It’s just so incredibly…hot.
“You updated your consent form,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I echo.
“Is this your way of telling me you want to get fucked bare?”
A deep, consuming desire gathers low in my belly as his question hangs in the air. It wasn’t a mistake when I updated my preferences. I knew exactly what I was doing.
So, again, I nod.
His answering groan provides me the confirmation I need. It’s a mutual decision—a silent acknowledgment that we both understand what we’re doing as two consenting adults.
“I want you for the entire night.” His voice thickens.
That was already established, but I know why he’s reiterating the point. He doesn’t want me to run again. So I whisper my agreement.
“And ten minutes of contact when we’re done,” he adds.
“What kind of contact?”
“Touch.”
I hesitate for a moment, remembering how freaked out I got last time, which is exactly why I ran. Touching before sex serves a purpose. After sex, or on its own, it’s just…intimacy.
“I’m not going to take it from you,” he says. “I want you to give it freely.”
“How will I know when the ten minutes are up?”
“When you say it’s up.”
His assurance calms my nerves, so again, I agree to his terms.
He resumes the soft, drugging kisses along my throat as his fingers unravel the sash of my robe. The last of my tension dissolves as the fabric falls open, and the heat of his hands penetrates my skin.
His palm grazes my bare breast, and I arch into him as his thumb scrapes over my nipple, sending tiny shocks through me.
“Are you wet for me, dea?”
“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.
When he dips his hand between my thighs to see for himself, my body betrays the evidence. He’s barely even touched me, and already, I’m hurting for it.
He lets out a ragged breath as his fingers slip through my arousal, reawakening something long dormant in me.
“Do you want to come?”
The low rasp of his voice fans the flames of my desire, and a soft plea falls from my lips.
“Yes.”
He skims along the edges of the robe, guiding it over my shoulders. In one fluid motion, it flutters to the floor, leaving me naked and on display for him.
Banding an arm around my waist, he pulls me onto his lap as he eases himself into the chair. I relax against him, legs draped between his as the rigid length of his erection throbs beneath me.
His hands coast over my body, exploring every curve and valley as if to reacquaint himself. As I drown in his warmth, I realize how touch-starved I’ve been in his absence.
I could let this go on forever.
My head lolls against his chest as he traces the arc of my hip, then inevitably, down between my thighs as they fall apart for him.
The first stroke of his fingers draws a quiet moan from my lips as he sets a torturous pace. It’s a slow, maddening spiral that drip-feeds my hunger and sends sparks of pleasure through every nerve ending.
I’m aching for it, chasing the high as I roll my hips, desperate to increase the friction.
“Sit still.” He grabs me by the hip, his low, gravelly voice brushing against my ear. “I’ll tell you when you can have it.”
I bite back a protest as his admonishment heats my blood. There’s something so primal about him when he uses that tone and reminds me who’s in control.
In this space, he’s my protector, my provider, and my overlord. And when he speaks to me like that, I’d let him ruin my whole life.
Once he accepts that I’ve been properly chastised, he collars my throat and tips my head back until I’m forced to meet his gaze.
He resumes at an unhurried pace, only now, every flicker of my emotions is laid bare for him.
It’s more intimate than anything else we’ve done before. The intensity of his possession rushes through my veins, leaving me drunk with pleasure and frantic for release.
He, however, seems willing to do this all night.
He brings me to the edge and backs me off so many times I think I might die if he doesn’t give it to me.
I’m squirming in his lap, breathless and begging for it when he pulls me closer, his words a rough caress.
“Do you remember who you belong to yet?”
“You,” I rush out.
I’d tell him anything right now to get what I want, but it doesn’t feel like a lie. He owns every inch of me at this moment, and my body is his to command.
The low growl of satisfaction in his chest proves he knows it.
He drags his thumb across my lower lip, then utters the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Now you can come.”
He pushes two fingers inside me and fucks me straight into an orgasm so consuming, I almost black out.
A relentless cascade of pleasure ripples through me, radiating outward until only pulsing aftershocks remain.
He draws it out, wrecking me so thoroughly that all I can do is lie there, completely strung out, as I wait for my senses to return.
Gradually, the blood rushing through my ears begins to subside, and the static behind my eyelids dissolves. The world comes back into focus as I open my eyes to find my head resting against his chest.
He prolongs the high with the warm, steady sweep of his hands. I feel him everywhere, and the weight of that presence triggers a sudden swell of emotion in my throat.
For three years, I’ve tried to convince myself that I’d idealized the memory of him into something that never really existed. But now that I’m back in his arms, it feels like I’ve taken my first full breath since I walked away.
I haven’t just missed this.
I’ve been starving without it.
Blinking back the pressure behind my eyes, I curl into him and bury my face against his chest. He lets me have that moment while he offers me quiet comfort, cradling the back of my head and grounding me with his touch.
Of course he knows, because he always does. He also knows I couldn’t verbalize what I’m feeling right now even if I tried. So he holds me, providing the only true sanctuary I’ve ever had.
He’s given me so much, and tonight, I want to give back.
Once I’ve gathered myself, I work up the courage to face him.
Shifting in his lap, I anchor my hands to his shoulders and straddle him.
My gaze drops to his lips, and an ember of desire stirs inside me as I imagine what it would be like to kiss him. To indulge just one tiny taste.
But I’m aware that all addictions start with one hit, and it’s too much of a slippery slope. So instead, I focus my attention on other things, like dragging my fingers through the strands of his hair.
He watches me in silence as I tip his head back, emboldening myself to do something else I’ve never done, but thought about countless times.
Teasing my lips along his jaw, I kiss my way down the column of his throat and breathe him in. That dark, intoxicating scent wraps around me, feeding the hunger I could never fully extinguish.
Fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, I peel apart the fabric and settle my palms against his bare chest. He’s so hot he feels feverish, and when I grind down against his erection, his ache is visceral.
I want to feel him so badly, it overwhelms me.