Page 89 of Veiled Yearning

“Oh.” It’s a breathy moan. “I guess we could do that…”

Then she moves, taking me to the hilt in one deep thrust.

Every time, it’s like coming home.

For a moment, I’m still, just absorbing the intensity of sensation. The bone-deep satisfaction of filling Chiara. Of feeling myself inside her. Being joined as one.

Her breath is coming in quick bursts, and she whispers, “I love feeling you inside me.”

“Gorgeous. Me too.”

It’s the best feeling in the world.

Just as it is when I move inside her, feeling her muscles quivering and clutching at me.

And when she bites my neck, a tiny prick of pain followed by sheer pleasure, taking something I’ve never given anyone else.

It’s beyond description, hearing Chiara’s small moans and whimpers as she thrusts her hips toward me, her body taking over in its desperate need.

This connection between us spirals, energy building, but this time it’s controlled. Contained only to this; a frenzied and passionate joining.

It’s everything.

Sinking deep, her inner walls convulse around me; fluttering, tightening, drawing me alone with her.

It’s ecstasy. Pulsing hot, filling her, my vision is a bright wall of light. Pleasure—not pleasure, more than that—sweeping through my body.

My muscles feel weak from the release, but I hold Chiara tightly to me.

She tucks her head under my chin. With a hint of humor to her voice, she says, “Well. I guess fast was okay.”

“You guess?” I mock-gasp at her. “I thought that was more than okay.”

A pause, and then she smiles against my neck. “It was more than okay, Gav. It was perfect. Just like every time.”

Warmth spreads from my chest to the rest of my body. “It was.”

We still managed to get everything ready in time.

If we weren’t both vampires with enhanced speed, it might have been a different story.

I had no idea how much preparation goes into planning a party. Especially a party on an island for over thirty people.

Ever since we decided to invite everyone here for the weekend, Chiara’s been working like crazy to make everything perfect. Scouring websites, looking at something called Pinterest—I thought I knew everything online, but that was new to me—and ordering a seemingly endless supply of packages from Amazon.

We have thousands of feet of twinkle lights strung up all around the property, which Chiara insists will make it look magical once the sun goes down.

I installed three fire pits, so there would be plenty of spots for people to sit and enjoy the fire as the evening gets cooler.

Our outdoor bar is stocked with hundreds of bottles of blood-laced wine, which took a visit to New York City to obtain. The closest store to Saranac Lake that sells our special blend of wine only has a few dozen bottles in stock, but after a weekend trip to visit Ivy and Ethan, we found more than enough for our guests.

Chiara set up speakers and a dance floor and lots of cozy little seating areas for anyone who wants a bit of quiet.

A few times, she got overwhelmed with everything, her anxiety flaring up again. But I’d hold her and remind her it didn’t have to be perfect. “They’re coming to see us, gorgeous,” I’d tell her. “If we miss something, no one will notice. I promise.”

She’s doing a lot better than a few months ago, when the battle with Nicolas was still so fresh in her mind. Now that we’ve been out here for several months, Chiara only checks her shields once a day, instead of three times, like before. And that tiny line between her eyes that appears when she’s stressed has shown up less and less frequently.

And if it helps Chiara feel calmer to arrange her little zoo of carved figures on the shelves in the living room? If she needs my reassurance every night before bed that we’re safe? I’m more than okay with it. I’ll do anything to help Chiara feel safe.

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