Page 135

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

I ran my fingers through his hair. I had everything I wanted right here. But… there was one thing I’d never done before. With our eyes locked, I whispered, “Show me how you make love.”

Yves leaned forward and claimed my mouth, kissing me slowly. Deeply. His tongue was moving against mine when he slid all the way inside me. I tightened my grip on his hair as he held himself there, buried so deeply I could feel every piece of him. His forehead pressed against mine as he gave my body time to accept him.

“Making love isn’t something you do,” he said. “It’s something you feel.”

Tears pricked in the back of my eyes as he withdrew, slow enough that the metal piercings dragged against every sensitive place inside me, then he pushed back in with the same maddening care.

“Can you feel it, Cora?”

I nodded. Almost overwhelmed with emotion. Closing my eyes, I said the only thing I knew to say. “Give me more.”

“Darling,” he said, gently taking my hand from his hair and threading his fingers through mine, then pressing it into the mattress. “You have it all.” He moved again—slower this time. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

I pried my eyelids open and found him staring down at me with a look that nearly broke my heart. His green eyes, framed with those dark lashes. His lips, open ever so slightly. Wet from my kisses.

“You have all of me,” Yves reassured me.

We moved together, as one. My hips and his. My chest and his. Every retreat left me aching for more. Every deep stroke filled the empty place he had created. I tried to force him into a quicker rhythm, but his free hand found my hip, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

There was no hiding inside hunger or pretending it meant nothing. He showed me without words that it did. Yves watched every change in my expression. He kissed every sound from my mouth. Each time I closed my eyes, his lips found my eyelids.

I realized this was what he had meant by devotion. To him, it wasn’t just an offering left on an altar for whichever god happened to be listening. It was an act—a service. And right now, his devotion belonged entirely to me.

The tenderness of it hurt. By Damien, it hurt worse than teeth or claws ever could. But I found I liked this kind of pain.

The pleasure built slowly, winding tighter with every slow trust. I wrapped my legs around him as he stroked the one place that made me moan louder than any other.

“Don’t stop,” I managed to say around a gasp.

He kissed the side of my neck. “Never.”

One more thrust was all it took, and I was gone to the world, lost to everything except him. Barely able to do anything but pant out his name as he continued that maddeningly slow pace.

Yves took my lips, swallowing the last of my gasps, then said, “What a good girl you are for me.”

Once the tremors ceased, Yves gathered the backs of my knees in his hand, and his rhythm deepened. The quiet sounds he had been making against my mouth became rougher grunts of pleasure. I felt each one as it fell against my neck. Each thrust had him hardening more until he finally said, “Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me,” I whispered.

He made a choked sound into my neck as his warmth spread. I held his head against me, and the last few seconds seemed to stretch on forever.

Once he was completely spent, Yves held me against his chest and rolled onto his back. He drew the linen sheet over us and pressed a kiss into my hair. There was no heartbeat beneath my cheek, but the sea was breathing through the open balcony doors and Yves’s fingers moving lazily along my spine.

For once, the quiet didn't remind me I was alone, because I was with him.

Chapter 43

Inavouable

CORA

When I awoke the next morning, I was carefully tucked into light linen sheets. The gossamer curtains framing the open balcony doors fluttered in a gentle breeze, cooling the sweat on my brow. The world beyond was nothing but a soft gray-blue. The sea and sky were divided by only a smudged line.

Valemer was still far too hot for my liking, but this view was worth the heat.

Sitting up, I discovered Yves was already out of bed, but I spied a sweating glass of water sitting on the nightstand. The considerate bastard was making it very difficult not to get used to him.