“You’re hopeless,” she said, laughing under her breath.
“Yes,” he murmured, stepping forward. “Hopelessly in love.” And then, he kissed her. Warm, certain, at first.
Then his lips claimed hers with a hunger that defied caution, a kiss so deep it threatened to unmake her. There was nothing tentative in it.
His tongue stoked hers with calculated confidence, coaxing her open, coaxing her under. She moaned, helpless and slow burning, as the warmth in her belly unfurled into something molten. Every nerve in her body responded to the command of his touch like it had been waiting all her life for this exact moment. Forhim.
Heath didn’t fumble. He didn’t hesitate. He guided her back, laying her onto the bed like she was something sacred. His eyes—dark, focused—devoured her as his hands slid over her corset, then under it, undoing the laces with infuriating precision.
Blanche’s breath caught as cool air kissed her skin, but it was nothing compared to the searing heat of his mouth. He kissed down the line of her throat, dragging his lips slowly over her collarbone, then lower, biting slowly at the top of her breasts. One hand cupped her while his tongue flicked over her nipple, and her back arched off the bed with a gasp.
“Heat—” she moaned, already half-wrecked.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Let me have you slowly,” he rasped, his voice like velvet dragged over stone. “Let me learn every inch of you before I bury myself inside you.”
She nodded. She would have given him the world in that moment.
His hands dragged her skirts up over her hips, bunching them around her waist before he knelt between her legs. The look he gave her was dark and devastating, sending a shiver racing through her.
She was bare to him now, trembling with need. But he didn’t rush. He lowered his mouth to the inside of her thigh and kissed her there. And then again. And again. She whimpered, impatient.
Then his tongue met her center.
Blanche cried out, her hips jerking. The first stroke was languid, luxurious. He tasted her like a man starved, groaning low in his throat when she moaned his name.
She never felt anything like it. The pressure of his tongue. The way he teased and circled and licked until she was gasping, fisting the sheets, unable to keep still. Her thigh clenched around his head, and still, he didn’t let up. He drove her toward that edge with relentless precision.
She was panting now, half-mad. Her voice broke on a sob. “Please… Heath…”
He hummed against her, licking harder, sucking gently. And when he slipped two fingers inside her, slow and deep, herclimax crashed over her like a wave breaking on the shore. Her cry was ragged, her body arched, trembling uncontrollably as he held her through it, his tongue coaxing every last tremor from her.
She was breathless and dazed when he finally rose above her, mouth slick, eyes dark with lust. He looked like he had just conquered a kingdom.
“You are mine,” he whispered. “No man will ever know you like this. No one else will ever make you come apart like that. Say it.”
She was too wrung out to speak, so she kissed him instead. Desperate. Her hand fumbled between them, finding him hard and heavy.
He caught her wrist. “Not yet.” His voice is a growl now.
“I want you,” she said firmly. “Now.”
He didn’t need more than that.
Heath kicked off his breeches, tore the last of her shift down her body, and then he was there—finally—sliding into her in one deep, perfect thrust that had them both fighting for air.
She was full of him, stretched, claimed. Her hands dug into his back as he began to move. Slow, grinding thrusts that stoked every spark back into flame.
Her legs wrapped around his waist. Their mouths met again. Tongues tangled. Bodies writhed as his hips quickened to a punishing pace. Harder he thrust against her, faster, reckless.
She shattered. His name on her lips, and he pushed into her through each crashing wave of her climax until he found his release. Pulsing deep inside her with a groan so low it vibrated her bones.
There were no words. Just the quiet sound of breaths steadying. His weight balanced over her humming body.
After a long moment, he brushed her hair back from her face and kissed her again. “Forever, my love. We get to do this forever.”
Blanche smiled, blissful and bare in his arms, and whispered, “Forever.”
That evening, well after their guests had all departed for the night, they sat together beneath the velvet hush of night, the fire casting lazy shadows along the carved bedposts, limbs tangled beneath the soft weight of quilts stitched in seasons past.
