Chapter 19 #2
His eyes widened, awestruck, as though he'd stumbled into a mystery he'd never expected to solve.
The weight of his palm, the slow exploration of his fingers, sent shivers scattering across my skin.
My head fell back, hair spilling over my shoulders, and a sharp inhale escaped me as sensation bloomed deeper, fuller.
And then he bent closer, his breath fanning over me—soft, warm, intimate.
My chest rose in a broken sob I hadn't meant to release, guilt and longing tangled in the sound.
I arched toward him, not knowing whether it was Caius or Dani I betrayed in that moment, only that my body was already answering him.
The brush of his lips was a shock, tender and reverent, the sensation a lightning bolt to my core. I shuddered, every nerve awake, every thought drowned in the urgency of wanting more—wanting him—while the weight of my divided heart pressed heavy and unrelenting.
“What are you doing?” I panted, disoriented. My voice, heavy with arousal, sounded like a stranger's.
He ducked his head shyly. “I'd heard the men talking…they said women like that.” The tips of his ears tinged red.
“And I wanted to please you, Magda. Did it not? Do you not like it?” His words hung between us, so sincere they made my chest ache.
I reached to touch his face, fingers brushing over the heat of his cheek, still damp with the closeness of me.
His eyes lifted, uncertain, searching for any hint of rejection.
The innocence in his question nearly undid me.
I should have pulled away, should have reminded myself of my loyalty to Caius.
But my body betrayed me, humming with the aftershocks of what Dani had stirred.
His touch lingered like fire beneath my skin.
“I liked it,” I whispered, though guilt pressed heavily against the words. “Very much.”
His lips curved into the smallest, hopeful smile, though his gaze never stopped searching mine—wanting only to know if he had done right by me, if he had given me something I wanted.
“I didn't know this was part of…how it is…” I murmured, surprise threading through my breath. “But it feels good…don't stop.”
Then a thought struck me and I pushed up on my elbows, searching his face. “Wait—do you like it?” The question tumbled out almost as an afterthought, but underneath it was a true fear—that this was only for me, that he took no joy in it.
For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then his mouth broke into a wide grin, boyish and utterly disarming, the kind that lit his whole face. His eyes—heavy-lidded and drowsy only moments ago—were suddenly bright, alive.
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, voice warm with certainty. “I could spend hours here if you let me.”
A small laugh escaped my lips at that thought. Satisfied, I let my body soften, sinking back into the bed. There was so much I didn't know—so much yet to learn about all the ways it could be between a man and a woman.
Dani bent to me again, his breath warm as he lowered his mouth, and I closed my eyes to surrender to the rush of sensation.
But the instant I did, it wasn't Dani I saw.
It was Caius—his face, his voice, the claim he had on my heart.
The intrusion jolted me, and I forced my eyes open, desperate to anchor myself in Dani's presence.
I fixed my gaze on him, on the earnest devotion shining in his expression.
My heart might have belonged elsewhere, but my body answered Dani without hesitation.
That much was real, even if it was confusing.
It was something I could give him—something that mattered to him—and perhaps that was enough.
What it revealed about me, I wasn't certain. But for now, I chose not to ask the question.
He moved with an enthusiasm that left me dizzy, each touch more insistent, more consuming. His eagerness carried a kind of intoxication all its own, and I found myself giving over to it—my hand sliding into his hair, urging him closer, while the other fisted into the blankets.
The world blurred into sensation—breathless, urgent, impossible to contain.
My body arched against the air, every nerve stretched taut as though I might unravel with the next heartbeat.
And then it came, sudden and overwhelming, crashing through me with a force that left me crying out into the stillness of the cottage, praying the neighbors hadn't returned from the wedding celebration.
I caught his face above me, the faintest smile tugging at his lips—quiet, triumphant, as though he'd won some private battle.
With an easy movement he slid beside me, pulling me close until my body curved against his.
His knee nudged between mine, a silent reminder of the heat still pulsing through him, of the hunger he hadn't yet sated.
He kissed me then, softly, tenderly, the warmth of his lips lingering like the sweetness of the mead we'd shared earlier.
There was a new taste to him too—something sweet and salty, and intimate—that made my chest ache with the strangeness of it all.
And then the moment came—the one I had been dreading since the day I'd whispered yes to his proposal.
He shifted, guiding me gently onto my back, his body moving over mine until his shadow and warmth covered me.
One hand braced against the mattress beside my head, the other hovering with careful intent.
The boyish smile that had lit his face only moments ago was gone, replaced by a furrow of uncertainty.
Worry softened his features, though I couldn't tell if it was for him…
or for me. My breath caught, fear and anticipation twisting together as his weight pressed over me—a promise I wasn't sure I was ready to meet.
But this was the bed I had made, and now I had no choice but to lie in it.
“If I hurt you, just tell me and I'll stop,” he whispered, breath uneven.
I could see the battle in him—the raw urgency that begged him to claim me, and the fragile restraint that held him back.
His eyes searched mine, dark with want yet softened by worry, as though my answer alone could decide which part of him would win.
I nodded, a small gesture that told him I was ready, even if my heart still raced. When he pushed inside me, a sharp gasp tore from my throat. It wasn't pain—more the shock of being opened. The sudden fullness was overwhelming, leaving me breathless, clutching at him for steadiness.
He stilled, searching my face for an answer.
I couldn't find the words, so I pulled him down and kissed him hard, letting him feel my answer in the press of my mouth.
My hands moved over him, tracing the strong lines of his back, gripping him closer.
My body, hesitant at first, began to find its own rhythm—guided by instinct, by the quiet urgency in him, by the simple need to meet him where he was.
He responded with a fervor that left no room for hesitation.
Each movement grew rougher, more desperate, until he was lost in it—lost in me—his voice breaking on a cry that tore from his chest. And though my heart twisted with guilt, my body reveled in the abandon of it, in the way he wanted nothing in that moment but me.
And that was what unsettled me most of all: that I liked it.
That part of me thrilled in his desire, even as another part of me recoiled, ashamed.
Dani curled his large frame around me, pulling the blankets over us with a protective finality.
His arm draped heavy across my hip, and within moments his breath slowed into an easy rhythm, soft snores brushing against the back of my neck.
I lay awake long after, slipping into only brief, restless dozes.
For years I had dreamed of sharing a bed with a man of my own, of knowing the comfort of that closeness.
But it wasn't this man I had imagined. That truth pressed against me more heavily than his arm ever could.
At dawn, when the light crept through the shutters, I turned to find him already stirring.
Whether he noticed the lack of blood on the sheets—or chose not to see—I couldn't tell.
The question I had dreaded never came. And I wondered if it was love that spared me, or simply his choice to guard a secret he did not wish to confront. But I was grateful either way.