Chapter 24 #2
She was looking at the sofa bed and the mess of tangled sheets.
“Cora?”
She turned to him, her cheeks adorably pink. “So, yeah. Um, I had this dream,” she managed, the words tumbling out. “That kind of dream. Adric was there. In his library. And we—god, Chase, he kissed me. And I—well, I kissed him back.”
As his whole body went tense with the urge to pummel his brother, she looked at the ground. He was about to speak—though he had no idea what the hell he was going to say—when she lifted her head and whispered so softly that no mortal could have heard her, “And I liked it.”
“Oh,” he said, his gut twisting. He could remember dozens upon dozens of times when he’d been furious with his brother.
He couldn’t remember ever being jealous.
“Cora,” he said slowly, trying to keep his composure. “He’s not a man you should trust. He’s definitely not a man you should kiss. You know the prophecy.”
“Screw the prophecy,” she snapped. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” he asked his voice tight with envy, with jealousy. Hell, maybe with hate.
Damn, but she was doing a number on him.
She gaped at him. “Are you really asking me that?”
“Cora, dammit.”
“You,” she blurted, her palms landing hard on his chest and pushing him back. “I’ve been crushing on you since I was fifteen years old, and you saved me from that creep. You. But I didn’t pull back or slap Adric or anything.”
She clapped her hands over her mouth as tears streaked down her cheeks.
“Cora,” he said, not sure if he was feeling joy or heartbreak or confusion. He reached for her, but she was pacing now, and he stepped back, a calmness settling over him as he watched her move back and forth across his room.
“I know I shouldn’t have come here, and now I’m just word-vomiting all over you and, oh god.”
She stopped abruptly, eyes wide. “I actually said all of that out loud. To your face. And I feel like such an idiot because it’s been you for so long, and I don’t know why I kissed him and…” She trailed off with a shrug, then collapsed onto the edge of the bed. “I’m really embarrassed now.”
He fought a grin, amazed that a being like him could experience such pure, sweet joy. “Don’t be.”
Her lips twisted, and she cocked a brow. “Why not?”
He sat beside her, then took both her hands and held her still. “Because you’re telling me now,” he said. “Because you came here. And because you’re choosing me. Or am I wrong?”
He saw the blush rise to color her cheeks. “Would that be a good thing?”
He actually laughed. “My love, it would be a very good thing.” He met her eyes. “I would move heaven and earth for you,” he whispered. “Would break my vows for you. I want you so badly it’s killing me. So, yeah. Choosing me would be a very good thing.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice breathy now and tinged with both desire and relief. “That’s really good to know.”
“I need to tell you things,” he said. “Important things. But tell me they can wait. Because right now, all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”
Her breath hitched. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Those important things can wait.” And then—in a move that drove home why he’d fallen so damn hard for this woman—she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close, crashing her mouth against his in a kiss that was wild and desperate and so full of need it humbled him.
He groaned against her mouth. Taking. Claiming.
And his control shattered as she deepened the kiss, her fingers fumbling as she unbuttoned his shirt, then slid her hands over his chest. He stood then, pulling her to her feet, then backing her toward the bed, his hands everywhere, tangling in her hair, skimming down her sides, gripping her hips to pull her flush against him.
She whimpered when she felt how hard he was, and the sound nearly slayed him.
“Chase, please.”
And those whispered words undid him.
Suddenly, their hands were tugging at clothes with frantic urgency. His shirt came off first, then hers. When his palms closed over her breasts through the thin lace of her bra, she arched into his touch with a moan that went straight into his soul.
“You’re perfect,” he breathed, his mouth trailing down her throat as his fingers unfastened the bra. “So fucking perfect.”
She slid ther bra off, then fumbled with the button of his jeans. He helped her, shoving them down. He stepped out of them, then kicked them aside, standing naked before her.
“Chase,” she whispered, her eyes roaming over him in a way that made him feel like they were the only two beings in the universe.
He slid his hand down, stroking his cock, watching the need on her face.
Then he held out his other hand to her. She took it, entwining her fingers with his, then letting him draw her closer, until their breath mingled, the intimacy of this moment almost more than he could bear.
Him, a man who’d lived only for duty—who’d been created only for duty—and this woman was both his reward and his anguish.
“Chase?”
Her soft words pulled him from himself as a red-hot need pushed him boldly forward.
His fingers fumbled at the tie on her sweatpants, finally managing to free the knot.
She shimmied out of them, leaving her standing before him in nothing but plain cotton panties.
And the pure desire that lit her eyes when she tilted her head back to meet his eyes made him harder than he’d even thought possible.
“Cora.” Her name was like a prayer, and his fingers itched to touch her. He held back, though. Savoring the moment. Memorizing every curve, the way her chest rose and fell with quick breaths. She was flushed and wanting and choosing him.
“Chase?” Her voice was small, uncertain. “I want this—I can’t tell you how much I want this. But I’ve never—” She cut herself off, biting her lip as he tensed, understanding what she was telling him. And reveling in the knowledge of what she was offering to him.
He kissed her again, softer this time. What he didn’t say—what he couldn’t bring himself to tell her—was that for all his millennia, he’d never done this either. Duty left no room for intimacy. He’d been created for purpose, not pleasure.