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He stared at her like a creature to be worshipped. A god of the forests. An eldritch terror. Something to be feared, adored, respected.
“You’re magnificent.”
“You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Yes, but I wasn’t really supposed to be looking…” He trailed a hand down her naked flesh. “I have never seen you like this before.”
He marvelled at every scar, kissed every freckle, worshipped every imperfection, his blue eyes turned black with desire. This was a softness she hadn’t expected, made her feel far more exposed than the nakedness.
“You destroy me, obliterate me, unravel me,” he murmured.
Juliana’s thoughts turned dizzy. “Take off the rest of your clothes.”
Hawthorn laughed against her flesh, his kisses moving upwards as he climbed to his feet, pulling off his remaining garments and letting them fall to the floor, until they both stood naked before one another, inches apart, not touching.
He felt tall in front of her. She swallowed, trying to keep her eyes level with his. He’d been tall for years, but she’d never once felt it.
Hawthorn grinned, as if sensing her wandering eyes. “Still up for this?”
“Do I look unsure?”
“Fair point.” He took her by the arms and backed her into a beam, hiking her legs up around his waist. “I seem to recall something about you liking it rough?”
“Maybe,” she said, before wrapping her arms around the pillar and flipping him onto the floor, her on top. “A little rough… but maybe not with you. Not right now.”
“Afraid I can’t take it?”
“I want to savour it,” she told him, “I want to savouryou.”
It was those words or the careful rocking movement that elicited a moan of him, deep and desperate, almost painful. Juliana still couldn’t believe that this was happening, that she was doing this withHawthorn.Hawthorn who she always pretended to hate.
Pretended.It was only ever pretend.
This—this was real.
Never mind that their bodies were smoke and dreams, she could feel him and herself and nothing else. The steady shake of his body beneath hers, his breath against her skin, his hands, touching and stroking—that was real.
She wanted to whisper things to him, lies and truths, promises that he was hers, declarations of undying affection.
Her words wouldn’t come.
She touched him instead, writing words with her body she couldn’t form with her tongue, manoeuvring herself into the right position, holding him to the floor—
And suddenly Hawthorn was inside her, rocking against her, locked together in a way that had no right to feel this good, this permanent.
She half-expected him to say something ridiculous, some comment about finally seducing her, a foolish joke, a command that she screamed his name.
He said nothing. He seemed beyond all words. Instead, he took her face in his hands, his eyes open, as if he needed help convincing himself that this was real.
He stayed looking at her even as they rocked together, bodies colliding like stardust, swaying in perfect tandem, thoughts and sensation turned nebulous under the soft, teasing pressure of their flesh. Heat trembled between them, one blissful moment sliding into the next, over and over and over until they exploded together.
Together.
This is it,she thought afterwards, as they lay together, a tangle of limbs.This is how we were always meant to be.
Shewokealone,reachingout for the warmth she fell asleep to, but of course, Hawthorn had vanished. At least from her eyes.
“Are you still here?” she asked.
