Page 127 of Stolen
He’s looking at me the same way.
Like I’m the miracle. Like I’m the one who defies logic and fate and all things divine. Like I’mbeautiful.
How can that be?
On Earth, I was nobody special.
Just another chubby woman with calloused hands and laugh lines, who poured drinks and smiled through the ache of wanting more.
There were prettier girls. Louder ones. Ones who knew how to get the spotlight.
But here, withhim, I’m seen.
Desired.
Worshipped.
And the way he’s looking at me now?
Like I’m some precious, irreplaceable treasure he still can’t believe is his?
It nearly undoes me.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I whisper, voice trembling.
His hand cups my cheek, reverent, his thumb brushing the curve of my jaw.
“Because I never imagined in all my plotting and illusion building that I would ever find a creature as lovely as you and that you, in all your rare honesty and beauty, would chooseme.You honor me,viyella.”
His touch follows, reverent and rough as his hands slide under the armor he conjured me, peeling it away like wrapping from a gift he’s been dying to open.
“Alaric,” I whimper, feeling needy and lost without him.
And because he knows it, he cups my hips and drags me closer, pressing his ready cock against my slippery seam.
We both groan. But he doesn’t enter me. Just slides me up and down, coating his thick sex with my juices.
“I thought I nearly lost you today,” he breathes, his mouth trailing along my neck, my collarbone, his hands cupping me like I might vanish.
“You didn’t,” I whisper, tilting my face to his. “I’m right here. Safe. In your arms. And Iwantyou so badly,viyen.”
His grip tightens, restraint unraveling thread by thread. “You don’t get it. I want you all the time. I need you, viyella. Have tomarkyou. Inside and out. I need every piece of you screaming my name, telling the world who you belong to, so no one—not the Fates, not the gods, not any fucking traitor—can ever take you from me.”
My body responds before my mind can catch up—helpless against the force of his words, the way he says them like a vow, like a spell cast just for me.
Heat blooms beneath my skin, rushing in waves across my chest, my belly, lower.
My breasts grow heavy, nipples tightening as if summoned by the gravel in his voice.
Between my thighs, I throb, a new wetness flooding me in a sudden, shamefully eager pulse.
I ache.
Fuck, how I ache for him.
For his mouth, his hands, his body pinning mine down while he ruins me in the best possible way.
My skin tingles, hypersensitive, my breath catching in my throat as every nerve screams for his touch.
