Page 284 of Black Reign

“Don't stop.”

Something fierce flashes through his eyes.

Then his mouth returns to my skin.

Slower this time.

Not hurried.

Almost reverent.

As if every inch he discovers proves something he spent years wondering about.

His lips follow the line of my collarbone while his hand stays firm at my waist, keeping me close.

“Crème,” he murmurs against my skin.

I shiver.

“What?”

“Your skin.”

Another kiss.

“Douce… si douce.”

His accent thickens around the French that follows, words that slip warm and low against me while his mouth keeps stealing my concentration.

“Belle. Impossible. Enfin.”

My heart feels too large for my chest.

The knot of the robe gives under the slow drag of his fingers.

Silk parts.

Cool air touches the upper swell of my breasts a second before his mouth does.

He doesn’t rush.

He simply breathes against me first, as though memorizing the heat of my skin, then closes his lips over the soft rise of one breast.

A soft, open-mouthed kiss.

Then another, lower, until his tongue finds the tight peak of my nipple and draws it gently into the heat of his mouth.

My back arches.

A small, helpless sound leaves me.

He hums against me, the vibration traveling straight down my spine.

“Regarde-moi,” he whispers against the wet skin he just kissed.

(Look at me.)

I force my eyes open.