When the music stops, so do we. Njål bends so slowly that I could avoid the kiss, but instead I rise on tiptoe to meet him. His mouth burns mine with icy heat, and I stretch upward even more, twining my arms about his neck to fall into the embrace that sweeps me like an avalanche, until I dig my fingers into his shoulders because the world is spinning beneath my feet. My soul fills with him, even as our lips glide and nuzzle, a steamy softness that fills me with urgency.
His tongue touches mine, and I feel that delicate stroke everywhere. Njål catches my gasp in his mouth and swings me into his arms. “Come to bed with me.” The deep, low growl vibrates in my stomach, creating a shockwave of pleasurable chills.
I nod and snuggle into his arms, no longer worried about anything. He spent so much time giving me a magical memory that I don’t doubt my own desires. The past doesn’t matter, neither does the future. For once in my life, I wish to be reckless.
He carries me from the great hall in long strides, and I hold on to him. But we don’t go to my little room in the kitchen or the east wing. Instead, he’s created a bower for us from one of the empty state rooms. More candles in here, I’d no idea there were so many in storage, and part of me cavils at the waste. We ought to have put out the ones we left burning in the hall. What if—
“Shh. Stop thinking,” he whispers, claiming me for another bone-melting kiss.
When I ease back, my whole body is quivering, and I’m hot all over. Immediately I untie the sash and pull the dress over my head, leaving me clad only in a thin cambric. His shining gaze lingers on the dark points of my nipples, plainly visible in the flickering light. Njål inhales sharply and then he’s scrambling at his own clothes, a task made more difficult by his claws. As he snarls in frustration, I step closer and help with the buttons.
“I hate how I am,” he snaps, though he doesn’t refuse my aid.
“I love how you are.” His tense posture eases as I slip the shirt from his shoulders, tug the sleeves carefully from his arms. “Though I do wonder why you have attire like this if it irks you so.”
“In the early days after the change, they thought it was amusing. To trot me out on formal occasions and put the beast on display.”
Ah. And he went to war with those humiliating memories, fought them to a standstill for me. To try and become the sort of romantic hero he thinks I desire and deserve.
I’m melting. Boneless. There’s only this endless ache, and only Njål can satisfy it.
Like a hungry cat, I pounce on him, unfastening his pants with an alacrity that must startle him. I can’t touch him enough, and the way he shudders beneath my hands, it only makes me want more. More of his pleasure, more of his moans and desperation. Njål arches as I plant kisses on his broad chest, tonguing the graven patterns.
The bed in this room is clean and large. We stumble backward and fall, together, hands and mouths wild. He tries to ask if I’m sure or I think he does, but I tug his body over mine, wrapping my legs around his hips. His sharp intake of breath tells me he wants this as much as I do. Njål props himself on his arms, slowly rolling his hips against mine.
I want to eat him up.
And I do, pulling him into another ravenous kiss—all teeth and tongue until my mouth feels deliciously swollen. I cup his cheek, stroking my thumb across the strong ridge. Njål closes his eyes, taking so much pleasure in that tiny caress that it unravels me. I’m molten to the core, and I roll my hips under him, letting him feel that sweet yearning.
“Can’t believe this isn’t a dream,” he whispers. “But here you are.”
“Please, Njål. I know you’re patient but don’t make me wait.”
In response, he reverses our positions, so that I’m sprawled atop his naked body. “It would be so easy for me to hurt you. Why don’t you take what you need? Whatever that might be.”
Such a beautiful, generous offer. I settle onto his hips, teasing both of us with a slow glide. He feels massive, but there’s no rush. Njål kisses the tip of my breast, and I pull his head to me, silently inviting more. When he adds his teeth, I whimper, moving on him helplessly as the familiar tension builds.
Carefully, so carefully, he touches my center with the pads of his fingers. With my thighs splayed in erotic display, I hold still, because otherwise, this will be too difficult for him. Slow, delicate circles, gentle sweeps meant to relax me, but I only get wetter and more excited. He can’t stretch me with his fingers beforehand, so I do it, holding his sparkling gaze as I work myself with one finger and then two.
“Faster,” he says, watching my face with a heat that envelops my whole body.
Obediently I press inward, finding my rhythm, and I don’t even care that he’s watching, feeling my slickness right on his shaft. Groaning, he shifts beneath me, dragging his hard cock against my soft folds. I remember the way he responded to my touch in the kitchen, and I can’t stop humping my fingers.
Oh gods.
Surely that’s enough preparation. I can’t wait another second to have Njål inside me.
22.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
Njål offers an agonized chuckle. “Am I the one who needs to answer?”
“Absolutely. Your feelings matter as much as mine.”
“Then yes,” he says simply.
I expect taking him to sting and it does, but since I’m in charge of how fast and how deep, I get us there slowly, easing down until
