Lightly fingering the material between my breasts, Bastien says, “You look beautiful in this.”
And his tone… the reverence and desire… it’s the man I used to know. It’s the man who used to love me.
His gaze slowly lifts, pinning me with such intensity I’m frozen in place. “I wanted to bury myself in you the minute I saw you in it.”
Bitterness. I hear that in his voice because it means he doesn’t want to feel this way. This is not the man who used to love me.
The dichotomy squeezes my heart painfully as I let him work this out.
Perhaps it’s anger with himself and the way he’s feeling that makes him do it, but Bastien grabs the inside of my plunging neckline and rips the fabric apart with such force, I gasp.
He releases the flimsy material, and I’m naked from the waist up. He stares at my breasts, lust etched on his face. And something else… almost a look of dominance.
My pulse is jackhammering so hard, I’m slightly dizzy. There’s a chance my legs will give way, but I’m confident Bastien won’t let me hit the ground.
His palms come to my breasts, and he softly kneads them. When he strokes my nipples with his thumbs, they tighten immediately, and a moan escapes my lips. Bastien tips his head, as if I’m a curiosity.
As if he doesn’t know he’s got the power to make me his slave. He cups my breasts, squeezes them gently and I breathlessly await his next move.
He tilts his head the other way and then pinches a nipple, and my deep groan vibrates through me like an earthquake. “Bastien,” I whisper, feeling wound so tight, I might shatter like glass.
He dips his head, puts his mouth near my ear. “What did you promise Sorin?”
I know enough that he’s not going to stop as long as I maintain my silence. He couldn’t get the truth out of me right now if he ripped it away with magic. It’s a game we’re now fully invested in, and he’s using the power of seduction to make me tell him what he wants to hear. My greatest fear is that he’ll walk away when I do, and I can’t risk that.
He’s too close to letting me in.
Instead, I turn my head, grazing my lips against his cheek, to the corner of his mouth. “Please don’t stop touching me.”
“Fuck,” he mutters, a low curse of both disappointment and resignation.
It happens so fast.
My torn dress is whipped off my body, and I’m not so sure Bastien doesn’t creatively bend distance, but I’m on my back on the bed with him stretched over me. He holds his weight off with his elbows on the mattress, but his hips are wedged between mine, and I can feel the hard length of him pressed against me.
Bringing his lips down to mine, he whispers against them, “Tell me what I want to know.”
I’m tired of this game. I’m not telling, and he’s not stopping. Cupping his face with my hands, I speak from the heart. “I want you, Bastien. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. I can feel you want it too. Please… let’s just have this, okay?”
If Bastien was going to continue holding out, whatever I said dissolves his need for me to tell him about Sorin first. His mouth comes down on mine, and I am truly home.
His hands and lips roam everywhere, testing every dip and valley that he knew so well seven years ago, intent on rediscovering.
I melt under him and let him have his way.
One hand smooths down over my ribs to my hip and straight into my panties. I vibrate with need as Bastien’s fingers find me wet and willing.
He strokes me, ignites me, and makes me crazy with need. He swallows my moans with his mouth before moving down my neck to my breasts. Tongue flicking and finger thrusting, I’m going crazy.
“I can’t…” I mutter, arching my back when his mouth finds a nipple.
Bastien lifts his head, eyes burning as he stares at me. “Easy, Thalia. I’m just getting started.”
“I can’t handle anymore… just… just…”
“You can handle much more,” he says, lips moving down my stomach in a trail of soft kisses. “I remember that about you.”
My heart squeezes at his admission, more confirmation he hasn’t banished the memories along with the love for me that was stripped.
Bastien kisses all the way down to my pelvis before sliding my panties free. He hums low in his throat as he pushes my legs apart… a sound of hunger. My fingers grip the quilt, and my eyes practically roll into the back of my head as his mouth finds my core.
“Oh, gods,” I mumble, hips straining upward.
Bastien lifts his mouth, stares up my body at me. “Tell me, Thalia.”