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She looked up at him again. Before insecurity could touch her eyes, Isael leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead. He let his lips linger on her skin and drew a deep drag of her scent.
Intoxicating.
He leaned back on the pillows as vertigo swept through him. It was brief, but long enough to put him on alert.
Something isn’t right.
Before he could contemplate what was wrong, Cera asked, “Do you think I’m with child?”
The question caused his thoughts to veer from their path. It was too absurd for him not to chuckle, though he was careful not to sound derisive.
“Unlikely,” he said.
Exceptionally unlikely.
Borderline implausible.
But not impossible, given her magic.
He severed the line of thinking before it could progress. Soon, he would have to contemplate it, but not tonight.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, needing to distract himself.
She didn’t respond immediately, only ran her fingertip around his naval.
Isael was aching for her again. As the throbbing in his groin picked up its pace, he remembered what it had felt like to enter her. The entire time he’d been undressing her, kissing her, stroking her, and making idle conversation with her, his mind had been a battleground of clashing instincts.
Again and again, he’d told himself to be calm and careful with her. Not to frighten her. Not to hurt her. He’d done admirably, given the circumstances. Given that his body had been burning for her and that his mind had been flooded with images of shoving her onto her knees, mounting her, and driving into her like a beast.
When he’d positioned himself at her entrance, finding it hot and slick, the beast had slipped its tether. It sprang on the voice of reason, the one cautioning him she had never lain with a man and that if he didn’t take care with her, she might be reticent the next time they were together. It devoured the voice, and in the next instant, plunged into her.
Isael had met less resistance pushing his blade through chest cavities, but the unhinged force of his thrust had been enough to slice through her barrier and restructure her passage to suit him.
The pleasure had been blinding, but swiftly assassinated by guilt.
He always loathed guilt, but never so much as in that moment. All he’d wanted to do was revel in the sensation of moving inside of her, not be distracted by shame at his own impulsivity.
But before the guilt could sour his pleasure, Cera had surprised him. She’d begun to move, mimicking the very motions he’d been yearning to make.
He hadn’t gone wild, then. Not completely. There was still a mental faculty in place that responded to her. When she cried out, he answered with a sound of his own. When her walls tightened around him, he drained himself into her with a force that bordered on pain and mellowed into sheer ecstasy.
“Good.”
The quiet word drew him back to the present. He’d been drifting, though to where, he wasn’t certain. Before he could connect the word to the question he’d posed, she offered a follow-up.
“And how are you feeling?”
Isael’s response was effortless. “Satisfied.”
“Ah. That’s good,” she said, the last word cut short by a deep yawn.
She squirmed in his hold, repositioning herself until she nestled snugly in the crook of his arm. As her eyes fluttered shut, Isael froze.
Something isn’t right.
The thought returned, slithering through his mind as he attempted to take stock and determine the problem.
Isael’s chest and throat were tight. He was rigid all over, as if bracing for an impact, but his heart was galloping.
