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The thrum of his heart beat a wild symbiotic frenzy against her pulse, as if his very life’s blood was learning her, adjusting to her.
Accepting her.
Shock had no place between them, nor did doubt or any of the people who had come before them. In that sacred space, carved among the secrets of the great mountain, there was only Brass and Molly.
Then her heart punched a final answering beat within her chest.
He is more than enough.
Brass surged forward and claimed her mouth with his, commanding a kiss that never had the time to bloom into second-guesses, for there were none. She groaned against the warm, silky invasion of his tongue as he maneuvered it with more skill than any man had a right to possess. She knew instantly that she’d remember that kiss forever. It wasn’t just an exchange of passion but of poetry. A lesson for all future generations to study in what happened when two souls collided into one.
He broke the kiss just long enough to tug her shirt off. The natural chill of the stone walls sought the nearest living thing, leeching heat from her body and kissing her breasts and stomach with goose bumps. The fire in Brass’s eyes danced with delight at what the chilly air brought. Already, her nipples had pebbled to aching, beckoning peaks. Behind his flannels, the outline of his thickening arousal left nothing to the imagination. True, she’d seen it all before—lucky woman that she was—but never with the kind of dangerous intent that sizzled in that moment.
Brass didn’t plan on having sex with a woman he merely liked.
He planned on fucking his soul bond until she screamed his name and rattled the stars.
Oh, Good Lawd.
Eager to have his mouth on hers again in all the ways, Molly curled her fingertips into the waistband of her underwear and began to pull them down.
“No. Don’t.”
Shocked, she stalled mid-strip. “Don’t?”
“That’s my job. I plan on baring you to me. All of you. Body and soul.”
Oh, shucks. Well, if you say so.
He lifted her off the bed and placed her feet on the ground in front of him. Then he gestured toward the nearest bedpost with that wicked fire in his eyes that still scorched her skin everywhere it touched. “Grab it,” he ordered.
On legs barely sturdy enough to hold up an objection, she bent over and gripped the bedpost fist over fist.
Then his voice, heated and silky as dark caramel swirled with cream, floated into her ear from behind. “I’m going to make love to you, Molly. No hiding beneath me this time. I want to see you come apart around my cock. I want to own every ripple of pleasure that lights up the body baring my mark.”
Before, Brass passing himself off as a man-of-few-words mortal had been a feast for her senses. But the soul-bonded Brass who worshipped her body like a shrine at an altar and offered up benedictions to the cause?
As in, actual full sentences of adulation from his mouth? To her? For her?
Somewhere between Brass’s slow slide of her underwear and the tender kiss he placed at the small of her back, a very unusual word floated around her mind.
She loved this.
For a woman who made a thousand and one decisions every moment, she thought she knew her preferences and what she needed to do to get shit done. She’d commanded kitchens, cooked for celebrities, bought a fucking restaurant on nothing more than borrowed credit and creativity. And it had all been . . .
Really, really exhausting.
“I don’t want to be in charge right now,” she whispered to the bedpost.
“You don’t have to be, baby. Not with me. Not ever with me. It’ll always be your choice.”
“Yes.” She sighed, tilting her head back. “Yes, that’s what I want.”
It damn sure was what she wanted. To not be on all the time, to let go on occasion knowing someone would be there to catch her and keep the ship running. A partner. A lover.
A soul bond.
Brass.
