Page 138 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Upturned to his, it was luminous—rain-drenched, trembling, alive. Emerald eyes burned into him, bared and unguarded: desire, relief, something perilously close to reverence. It blazed in her gaze like flame.
His body roared to life, every sinew alight with the aching recognition of her, the rightness of her—here, in his arms again. Shadows coiled at their feet, rising hungrily to meet the heat between them.
She stumbled slightly as her feet found the cool stone of their bedchamber, shivering against him. The brazier roared awake, flames unfurling in waves of scarlet and gold.
He pulled her flush to him, his hands dragging down her arms. “You are truly here.”
“I am,” she whispered.
His fingertips touched her cheek, tracing the contours of her face, and his voice came ragged. “I feared you would not return to me.”
She covered his hand with her own, holding his palm to her cheek. Green eyes found his.
“I will always come back to you.”
The promise cleaved something open in him.
His mouth found hers again—slower this time, laden with deep, possessive heat. She matched him, lips parting eagerly, her tongue delving against his in a kiss that burned through the water’s lingering chill. Her hands dragged over the soaked fabric plastered to his chest, mapping the lines beneath with aching familiarity.
Her hand slipped lower, grazing the rigid length of him through the linen.
His hands were already at her shoulders, wrenching her chiton down in one swift motion. The wet fabric resisted, but he stripped it free. It fell heavily at their feet, and she stood before him gloriously naked.
His tunic came off in one rough motion, fabric splitting as he drew it off. Then her hand was on him again, wrapping around him, stroking him in a slow rhythm that had him fighting for control.
“Persephone.” Her name left him like a prayer said too late.
The bed was forgotten.
He took her to the floor, into the thick furs beside the brazier. His knee slid between her thighs, nudging them open. He settled between them with a low groan, the contact searing.
When her hips rolled up against him, his body went rigid, molten need coursing through him, sharp and staggering.
He found her jaw with soft, biting kisses, tasting salt and water and her. She tilted her head back for him, hips rocking up again, grinding against him. His hand slid to her waist, down the soft slope of her stomach, and lower—slipping into the slick warmth that welcomed him.
Guiding himself to her, he pressed in. One long, slow push, and they were joined. Deep. Whole.
He had meant to go slow. To savor. To worship every inch of her with reverence that eased the ache of absence. But the moment his body sank into hers, silken and welcoming—everything shattered.
“Do you know,” he murmured raggedly, “how deeply I enjoy you?”
Her breath stuttered, lashes fluttering as he moved within her.
He drew his mouth up her throat, his breath rough with wonder. “Made for me,” he rasped. A low exhale followed. “There is nothing in this world, or any other, that could rival the pleasure of this. Of you.”
A gasp slipped her lips, half-moan, half-breathless plea, as her legs curled around his hips, drawing him closer. Urging him to move.
He listened, then obeyed. He set a hard, perfect rhythm, pounding deep and fast. The chamber echoed with their movements, the sound of skin and breath, the raw cadence of voices rising and breaking together.
It had been too long. Too many days without her. Too many nights waking alone, hands reaching for the empty bed beside him.
But now she was here. Under him. And it still wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel enough of her warm, bare skin against his own. Couldn’t draw her deep enough into him to erase the pain of her absence.
Every muscle in his body pulled taut, hard as forged iron, burning with the effort to keep the pace. But it was already there—
Pleasure coiled hot and fast, snarling through his veins, licking up his spine. Then she moaned, light and breathless.
His movements stuttered. He lifted his head, a curse breaking from his lips, low and guttural.
