Page 86 of Yearning For Her

Kian’s warm breath stirred her hair. He lay against Willow’s back, one arm securely wrapped around her middle, legs intertwined with hers. His scent was thick in the air, fragrant, spicy, rousing.

And there was something hard and prominent pressed along the curve of her ass.

Her nipples tightened, and Willow bit the inside of her lip. She’d had his cock inside her, but it had been more than that.

They’d…made love.

And Kian stayed with her afterward. He’d spent the night with her.

Her eyes stung as warmth blossomed in her chest.

Every time she’d been hurt, spurned, or betrayed in a past relationship, another crack had formed in her heart. Maybe she allowed herself to care too swiftly, too deeply, but she couldn’t change who she was. She enjoyed connecting with people. She loved learning about them, loved seeing them smile, loved getting little glimpses into their lives and their happiness. But when it came to romantic relationships, that drive to connect, to care, had only ever opened her to more hurt.

Willow had never found someone who treated her with the same respect and love she’d given them.

Please, Kian. Please don’t hurt me.

She remained quiet and still, savoring this moment, savoring his closeness, his warmth, and the gentle possessiveness of his hold.

Until the call of nature became too insistent and ruined it.

Taking great care not to wake him, she shifted her legs forward and wrapped her fingers around Kian’s wrist. She lifted his arm high enough to ease out from beneath it before she turned and lowered it to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, Willow looked at Kian. Her breath caught.

He was captivating.

The blanket rested low over his waist, leaving his upper body on display. His pale gray skin was radiant, the silken white strands of his hair shimmered in the light, and the glow of his eyes was so strong that it was just visible through his eyelids. And his wings… They gave off their own gentle luminescence that made them look like delicate works of crystal lit from within.

Though she’d seen him sleeping on the night they’d met, she hadn’t known what he was then. Now, it was surreal to witness. Something about sleep seemed so mundane, so weak, so…human. And his features in repose were so different than they were while he was awake.

With his brow smoothed and the corners of his mouth curled up in the merest hint of a smile, he looked almost innocent. The darkness that sometimes lurked in his eyes was nowhere to be seen now. The mask he wore for the world was gone.

She saw vulnerability on his face, but also peace. She saw the subtle but profound relief of a person who’d finally found someone after so many years alone, and it made her chest constrict, because God, she recognized it. She felt it herself.

How could he be hers? How could this be hers?

Mechanically, she brought her fingers to her forearm and pinched herself. She winced at the pain.

Nope, not a dream.

Willow wanted him again. But as much as she longed to touch him, she didn’t dare. She didn’t want to wake him.

Because she really, really had to pee.

She padded to the bathroom and gently closed the door before turning on the light. When she turned, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was tousled, her nipples were red from Kian’s attentions, and there were dark stripes of bruising on her hips, some accompanied by thin red scabs.

Willow twisted slightly and laid a hand over the bruises. She chuckled when she spread her fingers, making them line up with the marks. They’d been left by Kian’s fingers, the scratches by his claws. She looked up.

Her elation fled as her gaze fell upon the mark on her neck. Her skin began to crawl, but she swiftly pushed her revulsion aside.

Not going to let that monster ruin this. Not going to let him ruin what Kian and I shared.

She used the toilet, cleaned up, brushed her hair and teeth, and washed her face. Turning off the light, she took hold of the doorknob and paused to take a deep breath.

Yesterday, she and Kian had been as intimate as anyone could be. So why was she so nervous about returning to her bedroom? Why was she so nervous about returning to him?

Because I’m scared that something is going to happen, that I’m going to lose him.

Because… I might already love him.

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