But another voice grew stronger and overpowered it.
I am allowed. I am allowed to want, to take, to be taken.
She fisted her hands in his coat, opening her mouth under his. He groaned, the sound vibrating through her, and deepened the kiss. His tongue stroked hers, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world now. When he finally drew back, they were both breathing hard.
“You love me,” he said, wonder threaded through the disbelief.
“Yes,” she said. “I love you.”
He laughed, a rough, disbelieving sound, and pressed his forehead to hers.
“I love you more than my pride. More than my fear. More than any title, I never wanted.”
Her heart swelled until she thought it might burst.
“Then prove it,” she said.
His brows shot up. “Now?”
She tipped her head towards the bed. “There is a perfectly respectable bed there. I should like to… redeem it.”
His eyes darkened in a very familiar way as he picked her up and carried her toward the bed.
He groaned when she nipped at his ears and kissed his neck. “You will ruin me.”
Blaise kissed her again, quickly and fiercely, and held her tightly in his arms.
Iris clutched at his shoulders.
“I have been imagining carrying you to a bed for quite some time.”
Her arms tightened around his neck. “I have imagined you on every piece of furniture,” she admitted, and Blaise looked at her in utter surprise.
Iris blushed but did not regret her confession.
“It seems I have a lot of work to do.”
He set her gently on the bed, and the mattress dipped under her weight. Blaise stood for a moment, just admiring her. The candlelight gilded the hard planes of his face and softened his scar. Iris had the sudden urge to trail a kiss on it.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
Iris drew a breath that shook a little.
“I want you to undress me,” she said. “Slowly. As if we have all the time in the world. I want you to look at me and not pretend I am anything but what I am. Not an angel, not a saint. Just…” She swallowed. “Just Iris.”
His eyes burned. “You are so much more than ‘just’ anything.”
“Then show me,” she whispered.
He did.
Blaise came to the bed and sat beside her, fingers deft but careful as he unfastened the ties of her gown. Each brush of his knuckles against her skin sent a shiver through her. He peeled the fabric away inch by patient inch, as if unwrapping something precious.
Iris moaned when he bared her shoulders and bent to press his lips there.
“Iris,” he murmured against her skin. “You are mine.”
He undressed her until she lay before him completely naked. She trembled, resisting the old urge to cover herself and hide.
