I run my thumb down her lips. “You are my world, Max. Everything else can burn.”
The sight of us panting hard in the mirror fills me with heat and destroys what little remains of my good intentions. The pressure in my groin increases, taunting my demon out to play.
Our second kiss lasts longer.
Her breasts peak beneath the airy Fae dress, and I bend down to taste them through the fabric. She makes a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan and presses both hands flat against my chest.
“Stop.”
I stop, but she doesn’t move to leave, her gaze glued to our reflection.
“You shouldn’t have kissed me,” she scolds.
I tilt her chin up and peck her jaw.
“You kissed me back,” I tease.
Her eyes narrow. She runs a hand through my hair, tugging on it, then studies the result in the mirror. “You just had to look like fucking Prince Charming.”
“Look who’s talking. Have you seen your dress?”
I spin her around and run my hands up and down her sides. She feasts on the sight of me as I cup her breasts, kneading them through the pliable fabric, the weight of them fucking glorious. “Don’t you like it when I kiss you?”
I meet her gaze in the mirror.
“Iloveit.”
Her admission is breathy and winded.
“Then what’s the problem? Are you afraid of that dream-stalker showing up? Because I won’t let him touch you again. Shadows perish in the light, Max.”
She doesn't answer. Instead, her gaze drops to the floor, and her bottom lip disappears between her teeth.
I know that look.
It's the look she gets whenever she's about to tell me something I won't like.
“There’s no one else,” she admits softly. “That shadow—it’s you.”
My nose wrinkles unhappily. “Me?”
“The you…from before. The one who grew up in this place.”
My chest heaves, my spine burning with both envy and pride.
“Don’t you dream of him almost every night?” I croak.
It’s not really a question, but a reminder. For both of us.
Lips pressed together, she nods. I bend down and devour her neck, nibbling and biting, the taste of burnt vanilla beans filling my senses.
“Remind me again how many times you letEzra Lightbringertouch you?” I ask darkly.
The name is poison on my tongue.
I’m jealous of the man I used to be. Jealous and terrified.
The bastard doesn’t even exist anymore, and somehow he's still winning. Max dreams about him.
