Elyssara closes the gap remaining between them.
She traces every hard edge, every line, her finger brushing against his skin in a whisper-soft trail.
A groan rumbles through his chest, and he drops his head back, closing his eyes as if her touch delivers absolution with every stroke. The sound is relief before it is desire. Like no one has ever touched him gently enough for his body to understand the difference.
Her hands trail lower, moving to his waist band and working the ties with deft fingers.
Her lips ghost over the skin at his neck, her soft exhale igniting gooseflesh over his throat, his shoulder, down his arm. He looses the breath he was holding like the presence of her is enough to disarm him.
She presses one kiss to his throat, letting her tongue glide languidly across his skin.
He groans. Not sexually.Emotionally. The kind of sound that escapes a person when their defenses drop.
Her fingers keep working his ties and his pants fall, pooling on the floor, but Kael doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t protest. He steps out of them, keeping his head tipped back like an invitation to touch him, take him, absolve him.
“Open your eyes, my love,” Elyssara commands.
He obeys again, dragging his face back to hers, fixing his gaze on her face.
But he doesn’t move. Not like he normally does. Not possessive and claiming. No, this time, he’s observant—as if he’s afraid of himself.
So she moves for him.
“Your eyes follow my hands, okay?” she says, dragging her hands through her hair, and trailing a long, slender finger across her parted lips.
Down the column of her neck.
Her decolletage.
Between the swells of her breasts.
Kael’s eyes follow her hand, transfixed by the seductive invitation. His eyes take in every dip. Every curve.
But he doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t move to touch her.
Her fingers work the tie at her waist, and she removes the linen wrap, discarding it to the floor. Her Lightborne mark pulses in resonance and washes the chamber in a golden glow. She unfurls the wrap around her chest, baring her breasts, her peaked nipples.
He swallows thickly, dragging his hand down his face. “I can’t?—”
“Don’t,” she snaps, cutting him off. “Let me.”
She works the ties of her pants, loosening them until they whisper past the curve of her hips, and pool at her feet.
The candlelight spills across her naked body, and a growl of approval looses from Kael’s chest.
“El—”
But Elyssara shakes her head. “Ssshhhh.”
She moves toward him, hips swaying like an offering of peace.
Her palms find his chest.
“Do you want me?” she asks. Not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because she needs to hear him say it. Needs to hear himwant. Needs to hear him wanther.
He huffs a humorless laugh. “My love, I don’t want you.”
