Alderic pulls back just enough for me to see his face—his skin flushed, his lips swollen from our kisses, his pupils so wide they swallow the blue of his eyes. He stares at me as if I’m something he was never meant to have but can’t bear to let go. As if he’s memorizing me, committing every inch of me to his soul, knowing that even eternity wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.
His fingers tremble where they press into my skin, the only sign that he’s barely holding himself together. That if I ask for it—if I so much as whisper his name—he will fall apart for me.
His fingers drift over the curve of my hip beforeskimming lower, gripping me just enough to make me shiver. Then, he plucks another strawberry, dipping it deep into the chocolate, letting it coat the surface before bringing it to my mouth again.
This time, I don’t just take the fruit. I lean in and catch the tip between my lips, teasing, before sinking my teeth into the juicy flesh. The noise that slips from Alderic’s throat is almost feral.
Before he can say another word, I grab his collar and pull him to me, pressing my mouth to his, letting the flavor spill between us. He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue sweeps inside, tasting, devouring.
His grip on me tightens as he walks me backward, his lips never leaving mine, until my back collides with the cold stone wall. The shock of it sends a gasp tumbling from my lips, and he takes advantage, his tongue licking deeper.
His hands slide down my sides, fingers pulling up my dress, spanning my hips before reaching down to grab fistfuls of my thighs. A sharp breath catches in my throat as he lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing at all. My legs wrap around his waist, instinctual, desperate, anchoring myself to him, to the heat of his body against the chilled air, to the press of his hips against mine.
Alderic groans, his mouth finding the curve of my jaw. “It’s sweet,” he murmurs. “But not as sweet as you.”
I chew slowly, chocolate and fruit juice trickling down my throat, and when I swallow, I hold his gaze. “Prove it.”
Alderic groans into my mouth as his hands slide beneath me, gripping my ass in his broad palms, fingers digging into me like he never wants to let go. He grindsagainst my heat, his cock straining against his pants, and a deep, grateful sound rumbles in his chest.
“Gods, Gemma,” he rasps, “you feel fucking perfect. All soft, all mine.” His fingers knead my skin. “I love knowing there’s more of you for me to hold, to worship, to feast upon.”
My back arches as Alderic lifts me and carries me to the table, the strength of his arms making me feel weightless. The platter crashes to the floor, forgotten, strawberries rolling across the stone surface. The moment I settle, the fruit beneath me bursts, their juices warm and sticky against my bare thighs, staining the wood, staining me.
His fingers brush over the laces at the back of my corseted dress before he starts to tug them loose. Each pull unspools the tension holding me together, unraveling me stitch by stitch. The fabric softens against my skin as the tightness releases, the corset no longer a barrier between us. He trails his fingers along the undone laces as if savoring the moment before everything is laid bare.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
“No, Alderic, touch me.”
I lift the gown and slide it up and over my head with a slow, teasing roll of my shoulders. The fabric whispers against my skin as I peel it away and toss it onto the floor in a careless heap.
Alderic curses under his breath as his gaze rakes over me. He swallows hard, then exhales, his voice thick with hunger.
“Look at you. The perfect feast.” His fingers scoopbeneath my thighs, gathering the burst strawberry juice, before sliding up, smearing the sticky red stain across my skin. “And I intend to savor every bite.”
I guide his hand to my mouth. My tongue flicks over the tip of his finger, tasting the tart sweetness, tasting him. Then I take him deeper, sucking the juice from his skin, slow and deliberate. My lips seal around him, my tongue swirling over the pad of his finger before releasing it with a soft, wet pop.
“Fuck,” he rasps, his voice nearly breaking.
His hands flex against my thighs before gripping them harder and dragging me closer, sliding me to the very edge of the table.
And then his mouth crashes against mine.
It’s wild, unrestrained, a claim as much as it is a surrender. He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’ll die if he doesn’t taste me, devour me.
His body presses flush against mine, the thick, insistent weight of him catching perfectly against the slick heat of my bare skin. I gasp into his mouth, the friction sending a shudder rolling through me, heat pooling deep in my core.
I need more.
I tug at his shirt, pulling at the buttons, the fabric bunched in my fists as I fumble in my desperation. He helps me, impatient now, yanking the linen over his head and tossing it carelessly aside.
I drink him in, my breath catching at the sight of him—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, skin flushed with heat. My fingers trace down his abdomen, following the ridges of muscle, feeling the way they flex beneath my touch. And there, cutting across the hard planes of hisstomach, is a scar. Its golden hue catches the light as I trail my fingers across the velvety softness.
Alder is attractive. But Alderic—God, Alderic is something else entirely.
“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, my palms flat against his chest, his heart hammering beneath my fingertips.
He cups my face, capturing my lips once more as he rolls his hips, the thick press of him straining against his breeches making me gasp, making me ache.
