Page 40

It was all it took, and the look on his face alone nearly would have brought me to my knees if I had been standing, as every trace of restraint seemed to vanish as he kissed me again, and this time, there was nothing playful about it. No teasing. No arguments. No challenge. Just certainty.

By the time he eventually pulled away, I was breathless and struggling to remember what coherent thought felt like. I didn’t have the chance to ask why he’d suddenly created space between us, because his attention had already shifted elsewhere.

Specifically, to my dress. His gaze traveled slowly over it before returning to my face.

“This dress,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you like it?”

The question caught me completely off guard, and I glanced down at it before looking back up at him.

“Not particularly, seeing as it was trying to kill me earlier by tripping me up,” I replied, and a knowing smile appeared.

“So, I have the dress to thank for slowing you down.”

“I guess you do,” I said with a little shrug, still unsure where this was going. But then something dangerous flashed through his expression. The kind of look that usually meant trouble.

For me.

For furniture.

Or, apparently, for clothing.

I opened my mouth to ask what he was thinking, only to immediately regret it when his hands moved. The shocked gasp escaped before I could stop it as he suddenly ripped my bodice, tearing it straight down the center. My breasts spilling free, and there was an instant relief of pressure from my tortured ribcage.

“Wow,” I said breathlessly as my eyes widened. “If this is how you thank the dress, I’d hate to see how you act when you’re angry at it.”

Atlas looked entirely unapologetic.

“I may have the dress to thank,” he said, his gaze traveling over my bare skin with heated appreciation, “But it was still keeping this beautiful body from me.” The sincerity behind the words made my stomach flutter. “And that,” he continued quietly, “I will not permit.”

The look in his eyes stole any teasing reply I might have expressed. Especially when he leaned closer, kissing my neck, and whispering in my ear,

“Not when I have plans for it and want it all to myself.”

The possessiveness in his voice should probably have concerned me. Instead, it did entirely unhelpful things to my heartbeat.

As the silence settled between us once more, Atlas’s attention remained fixed on me with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. The teasing had faded. The banter had softened. What remained felt quieter somehow, but infinitely more powerful.

The room seemed smaller.

The distance between us nonexistent.

And when his gaze slowly traveled over me again, his expression turning almost worshipful, the words that followed emerged little more than a rough whisper.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

The honesty in his voice hit harder than the compliment.

Words that continued to be expressed as he growled right over my heart…

"You make me ache to be inside you."

The confession settled between us, stealing the last of my breath. And in the silence and stillness that followed, the rest of the world seemed impossibly far away. Beyond the walls of the palace, beyond the mountains, and beyond the war against the darkness that had tried so hard to tear us apart. There was only this room.

Only his touch.

Only the way he looked at me as though I was something precious he still couldn’t quite believe he’d found again.

My fingers slid into his hair as I drew him closer, unable to bear even the smallest distance between us. Atlas made a low sound in his throat, one that sent heat spiraling through every part of me, before his forehead settled against mine.