Her breath caught, and her joy rushed into him, clean and warm, no longer muted.
“Then choose me,” she whispered.
He kissed her slowly. Thoroughly. Learning the shape of her mouth all over again, like this was their first time. In some ways, it was.
Marina’s hands found his shirt, started working the buttons with careful deliberation. “Can I?”
“You never have to ask.”
“I want to ask. I want you to say yes.” She met his eyes. “I want every touch to be a choice we both make.”
His breath left him unevenly. “Yes. God, yes.”
She undressed him slowly, pausing to press her mouth to each new stretch of skin. His collarbone. His sternum. The scar over his ribs, the one he’d always deflected with alater. This time, when her fingers found it, he didn’t deflect.
“First shift,” he said quietly. “I was sixteen. The night my grandfather died. I didn’t know how to stop it, and a dragon doesn’t fit inside a boy who isn’t ready for it.” His hand covered hers over the old, raised line. “I never showed anyone. It felt like proof I couldn’t control the one thing that mattered most.”
“Thank you for showing me.” She pressed her mouth to the scar, soft.
Each touch was a question, and he answered with breath and sound and the heat that hummed between them.
When she reached the scales that flickered along his forearms, always present now, no longer hidden, Marina traced them with gentle fingers.
“These are beautiful,” she said.
“You’ve said that before.”
“I’ll say it every time. Until you believe me.” She pressed a kiss to the iridescent scales. “You’re beautiful. All of you. Dragon and man. I choose all of you.”
His control wavered, not breaking, but softening. Heat radiated from his skin, and more scales appeared, spreading up his arms in delicate patterns. Marina touched each one with wonder.
“Your turn,” he said roughly, pulling her sweater over her head. It caught on her earring, a small silver hook, and they both stopped, laughing, while she untangled herself. The sweater landed somewhere behind the headboard. Neither of them checked.
She didn’t cover herself. Didn’t look away. Just let him see her, the way she hadn’t quite been able to before. He already knew what her fear tasted like. He might as well know the rest.
Alessandro took his time. Every curve, every freckle, the soft place below her navel that made her breath catch when he kissed it. He kissed her breasts, tongue tracing slow circles that made her fingers grip the sheets. Kissed down her stomach, his breath warm against the fine hairs on her skin.
When he reached the waistband of her sleep pants, he paused. “Can I?”
“Yes.” Her fingers tangled in his hair. “Please.”
He stripped away the remaining clothes, then settled between her thighs. The first taste of her made him groan, salt and sweetness and everything he’d been craving. Her pleasure spiked through him as his tongue found her clit.
“Alessandro—” His name in her voice, breathless.
He looked up, meeting her eyes while his mouth worked her higher. The eye contact made everything more intense, watching her watch him, feeling her pleasure while seeing it written on her face.
“I love you,” he said against her skin.
“I love you too… oh god…”
He slid two fingers inside her, curling them while his tongue kept its rhythm. The dual sensation had her gasping, hips rolling against his mouth. She was climbing, pleasure building in long, certain strokes, and underneath it the trust that he would keep going, that he wouldn’t stop, that his patience was not a performance.
“Come for me,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to feel you.”
She did. A long, rolling crest that pulled a sound out of her she didn’t try to muffle. He felt it from both sides through thebond: the satisfaction of her undoing and the undoing itself, doubled, until his hands were shaking against her thighs.
When he kissed his way back up her body, Marina pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting herself on his lips. Then she pressed a hand to his chest and pushed, gently, deliberately.
