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He grasped her face, his eyes drifting over her features. Though Nix had asked him not to complicate things by being with Brinna, this was different. This was a pulse of light encasing his heart. He knew that it might be the god-yoke, but to hear her say she’d also thought about him since they’d met, that she recognized the connection, and because he suspected there might be more, he didn’t care what Nix thought. His brother couldn’t be mad at him for this.
So Luc leaned forward and pressed his lips to Brinna’s.
He’d kissed many. Usually a pleasant experience. There were quick kisses and lingering ones. There were kisses that comforted. There were wet and sloppy kisses, kisses with too much tongue or not enough. There were kisses that were offered and those that took. In his experience, Luc could say that he enjoyed kissing, but he’d never truthfully felt as if it left him completely satisfied.
Until kissing Brinna. Each and every time he had, the heat in his chest exploded outward the moment they connected, from his heart to his extremities. The connection swirled through him, around him, and now that he knew who she was to him, the kiss seemed to change the foundation of who he was, remaking him with contentment and joy but also deep seated desire.
Her lips against his, her opening up to him, the ferocity of the warmth exploding inside him, the virulent need that claimed his thoughts—this kiss required sound. He moaned. She answered with her own sweet sound. This kiss, while completely unsatisfying because he needed more of her, was also the kiss to end all kisses. Brinna’s kiss was the cosmos, the Vasmost. She was the final destination of his Roam.
25
Lucian broke the kiss, his hands framing her face between them. When she opened her eyes, they weren’t in the auditorium anymore, but rather a quiet room, a bedroom with floor to ceiling windows, the sky dark beyond them but sparkling with stars and a cosmos ribboned with aqua, pink, and purple. The wooden walls, the simplicity, was familiar.
“Sol?” she asked.
He looked around as if he was unaware things had changed, and his features smoothed with recognition, then acceptance. With his content smile, his eyes sought hers. “It would seem we’ve come home.” His voice was husky.
Her heart compressed. Home.We’vecome home. The rightness of those words filled her up with warmth and light.
Lucian bent forward to kiss her again, walking her backward toward the bed. “Are you sure, Brinna? That you want this?”
“Yes. With you,” she replied between kisses, grabbing hold of his shirt.
He made a sound that was part groan, part growl, and began to unbutton her shirt.
“You can think our clothes off,” she reminded him.
“Only I want this to last,” he replied, sliding a thumb over her collarbone. “I want to savor everything about you. Every moment. I want to look at you with my eyes, feel you with my hands, taste you with my mouth. Every inch, Brinna.” He undid another button.
She mewled, a rush of warmth between her thighs, and tugged his shirt from the waistband of his pants. “You’ve talked me into helping.” She grinned, but her hands shook as she fiddled with his buttons.
He laid his hand over hers. “What’s wrong?”
She dove into the warmth of his eyes. “I’m nervous,” she confessed. “I haven’t–”
“We’re dreaming,” he said.
“But–” She sucked in a breath. “With you, this is real.”
He pressed a finger to her lips. “We’re dreaming. Remember how it is in your dreams, woman?” And then he recited those words she’d said a lifetime ago. Everything he remembered about that moment she’d embarrassed herself, when she’d thought she’d been dreaming of him—it wasn’t so embarrassing when he said them now, kissing her between statements and ending with, “This is going to be fun.” It was sexy.
He pulled back and smiled, pushing the shirt over her shoulders, down her arms, baring her breasts to him.
His smile faded, and his eyes darkened. “Stars, Brinna.” He ran his hands from her hips up her sides, stopping just below her breasts, his thumbs sliding across the skin, touching her without actually touching what ached for him.
She gasped, wanting his touch on her nipples, leaning toward him, wanting his touch everywhere and arching into it. “What if you wake–”
“Don’t,” he commanded and bent forward, kissing her neck, swirling his tongue across her skin, biting, then licking and kissing the spot again. He left a trail across her chest, from the top of her breast, to the peak of her nipple, tight with anticipation. He hesitated, finally curling his hand around her breasts and testing the weight of them, lifting them higher, one toward his mouth.
His tongue slid over the taut tip, his eyes on hers. He hummed, a sound of absolute appreciation.
She gasped, grabbing his shoulders. “Oh. That feels…” Her hands on him kept her steady as his tongue swirled around her nipple, drawing it into his mouth and sucking. “That feels so…” But she gasped again when his teeth rubbed against her flesh. “Good!”
He made another appreciative sound and slid his mouth to the other side, his hands and mouth taking turns.
“Yes…so good.”
Wanting to be more involved in this endeavor, she grabbed hold of his shirt once more, but couldn’t reach the buttons now that he was savoring her breasts. And he was savoring. “I want to touch you,” she breathed.
