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I’ve never felt more alive.
Solon pulls his arm away and wipes my chin with his thumbs, his eyes positively luminous as he studies me. “There you are, my moonshine.”
I reach up with my hands, grabbing the sides of his face, my fingers pressed into his temples, and I pull him toward me.
“Kiss me,” I whisper to him, a new hunger running through me.
Heat flickers in his eyes.
He moves up on the bed, his weight over me, and covers my mouth with his and I’m lost in the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way his tongue and lips both soothe and spur me on, alternating, yin and yang.
It all comes down to feeling now.
To being.
The two of us together, somehow separated by time and then brought together.
He’d been waiting for me for so long.
“I did what I could not to fall in love you,” he murmurs, running his fingers over my lip before taking it between his teeth for a moment. “I tried. I really did. But it was already too late. It was already in the making. You were already meant for me.”
“Thank you for giving in,” I say softly against his lips.
He gives me the most breathtaking smile. “You’re welcome.”
Then he kisses me again, deeper this time, searing and sweet, the kind of kiss that your body never lets you forget, a kiss to compare all past and future ones to.
It does me in, opens up my heart to his, my heart that’s already pumping with his beautiful blood, beneath skin that feels like just a veil between us. We’re already so connected, flesh is just a formality now.
And it fades between us as he pulls my nightgown over my head, as my fingers fumble and tear at his shirt, as we strip each other naked, his body pressed against mine, hovering in my view.
I stare up at him, marveling at the way he was made, how every single inch of him is so perfectly put together. Even supposed flaws like a nose slightly too wide, the lines at the corners of his deep-set eyes, his permanent frown, every single part melds together to create a walking, breathing work of art. One that happens to have walked through history, through time itself.
All the way to me.
He smiles, the lines at his eyes growing deeper. “All the way to you,” he repeats, and for once I’m not mad that he read my thoughts. He deserves to hear it all.
He kisses me again, harder this time, a hunger that he’s kept at bay is now sneaking through, and I respond in kind, feeding off of it. My hands roam over his rock-hard shoulders, nails scraping lightly over his chest until he moans, his lips now at my neck, gently biting, sucking, nibbling, bringing my body to new heights, my back arching off the bed.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe, his mouth working its way down between my breasts, over my stomach. “Most beautiful being that I’ve ever seen. You really do bring me to my knees, Lenore.”
My name on his lips sounds like a prayer.
I close my eyes, leaning back into the bed as he goes between my thighs.
Kisses me gently at first, then his tongue and mouth are lost to a feverish intensity that has me coming, the bedroom ringing with my cries.
I expect him to be rushing after that, but he’s taking his time now, because we have all the time in the world. His kisses turn to words of adoration, devotion, worship, and he places them all over my body, from the delicate bones of my ankle, to my stomach, to the soft skin under my breast. He kisses me with such reverence that I’m practically shaking from it, the same as any orgasm, but this time it’s my heart that’s being rendered.
I don’t know how it is with vampires, I barely know how it is with people. But this, right now, this feels so much more than what is happening. This feels like the two of us are being bonded beyond blood now, bonded by love, bonded by something that’s greater than us both.
And when he brings his face up to mine, gazing down at me in such a way that my heart does cartwheels in my chest, and kissing me like a dying man on his last breath, I know he feels it too.
His hands slip down over my sides, skin skimming skin, then he’s parting my thighs and pushing himself inside me.
I gasp, taken aback, having forgotten his size, how commanding he is, even when he’s not being rough. He slides inside me, my body seizing around him, my chest out, hands fisted in the sheets.
His breath is shaky as he pushes in to the hilt, sliding over every raw nerve, making my heart dance again and again. And he stares at me, in me, and I’m meeting his eyes, lost in how dark they are, both warm and cold. Like a fire made of ice.
