Chapter 10 #4
"Stop." I cupped her face, forcing her to look at me.
"It has nothing to do with that. You're—" I struggled for words, my throat tight.
"You're extraordinary, Sarah. You're brilliant and fierce and so damn beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.
But I won't let you do this when you've been drinking because you matter to me.
And when this happens—when, not if—I want you to be sure.
Completely sure. Not tipsy-sure. Not caught-up-in-the-moment sure. Sure."
Her eyes searched mine, and I saw the war happening behind them—the part of her that wanted to argue, to push, to take what she wanted. And the part of her that understood what I was saying.
"I am sure," she whispered. "I've been sure since you chopped that wood shirtless and looked at me like—like I was something worth wanting."
My heart slammed against my ribs. "You are. You're worth—" I stopped, swallowing hard. "You're worth everything."
She leaned into my touch, her eyes closing. "Then show me."
"Sarah—"
"Please." The word was barely audible, but it hit me like a physical blow. "I don't want to wait. I don't want to be careful. I just want—I want you."
I stood there, torn between what I wanted and what was right, between the desperate need clawing at my chest and the knowledge that she deserved better than this.
And then an idea formed.
"Okay," I said quietly.
Her eyes flew open. "Okay?"
"Not—" I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. "Not what you're asking for. Not tonight. But I can give you something else."
She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
I brushed my thumb across her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin, the rapid flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers. "I can show you what it feels like. To be wanted. To be desired. I can teach your body what pleasure feels like without—without crossing that line."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, followed quickly by uncertainty. "You mean—"
"I mean I can touch you. Taste you." My voice dropped, rough with want. "I can show you exactly how much I want you without taking something you might regret giving me tomorrow."
Her breath hitched, her pupils dilating. "And you'd—you'd be okay with that? With not—"
"This isn't about me." I leaned down, my forehead resting against hers. "This is about you. About showing you that you're desirable and powerful and worthy of being worshipped."
She was quiet for a long moment, and I caught the shift in her scent—the arousal intensifying, yes, but also something softer. Something like trust.
"Okay," she whispered. "Show me."
I took my time.
I'd waited too long, wanted her too much, to rush this. And she deserved more than hurried fumbling in the dark.
I led her to the bedroom, the firelight from the main room casting flickering shadows through the doorway. The bed was still unmade from where she'd slept earlier, the blankets rumpled and soft.
"Lie down," I said quietly.
She did, her movements uncertain but trusting, and I followed her onto the bed, settling beside her. For a moment, I just looked at her—the way the firelight caught in her dark hair, the flush on her cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
"You're beautiful," I said, and I meant it with every fiber of my being.
She started to protest—I saw it in her eyes—but I stopped her with a kiss. Soft at first, gentle, giving her time to adjust. But when she made a small sound in the back of her throat and her hands found my shoulders, I deepened it, tasting the lingering sweetness of salted caramel on her tongue.
She kissed like she did everything else—with intensity and focus and a determination that made my head spin.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, and I had to force myself to slow down, to remember that this was about her, not me.
But Christ, it was hard. My cock was already straining against my jeans, aching with need, and the feel of her mouth on mine was pushing me dangerously close to losing control.
I broke the kiss, trailing my lips along her jaw, down the column of her throat.
Her scent was overwhelming this close—vanilla and steel and arousal so thick I could taste it on my tongue, could feel it coating the back of my throat.
I found the spot where her pulse hammered beneath her skin and sucked hard, marking her, claiming her, feeling her arch beneath me with a gasp that went straight to my cock.
"Kael," she breathed, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly undid me. I wanted to hear it again. Wanted to hear it screamed.
"I've got you," I murmured against her skin. "Just feel. Don't think. Just feel."
My hands found the zipper of her dress, and I paused, giving her a chance to stop me. But she didn't. She lifted her hips, helping me slide the fabric down and away, leaving her in nothing but the thin scraps of cotton underneath. I peeled those away too, baring her completely to the firelight.
I'd imagined this—more times than I wanted to admit—but the reality was so much better than any fantasy.
She was all soft curves and smooth skin, her body flushed with arousal and firelight, her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath.
Her cunt was already glistening, swollen and ready, and I had to take a moment just to breathe through the primal need clawing at my chest.
"You're staring," she said, her voice uncertain.
"I'm appreciating," I corrected, running my hand up her side, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. "There's a difference. You're fucking perfect, Sarah. Every inch of you."