Our fingertips touching, meeting, pressing solidly together, seeming almost to merge into each other, until it’s impossible to tel us apart, determine where he ends and I begin. And

I can’t help but marvel at the warmth of him—the surge of pure tingle and heat that he brings. And soon, no longer content with just that, longing for something much deeper, we slip into each other’s arms.

My hands at his neck, his at my waist, clutching me tightly, pul ing me close, and then closer stil . Exploring the path of my spine before threading his fingers through my thick mane of hair, he steers me toward him, expertly angling my lips to meet his. The soft pil owy firmness of his mouth reminding me of the first time I tasted him—in this life and al the others as wel . Our whole world shrinking until there’s nothing but this.

One perfect everlasting kiss.

Bodies pressed together, we sink down to an antique rug that some of history’s most il ustrious figures have walked upon, Damen lying beside me, curled al around me, the two of us completely overcome by the wonder of each other, the wonder of being together.

Hardly believing this moment has come after having waited so long.

The curse final y broken.

The universe no longer working against us.

Damen pul s away, gaze drinking me in as his fingers rediscover the feel of my skin. Exploring the expanse of flesh between my temple, my cheek, my lips, my chin, down around my neck, and then lower stil , as my lips swel in anticipation of his, eagerly tasting, taking smal nips at his hand, his shoulder, his chest, whatever comes near. I can’t get enough of him. Can’t help but want more of him.

Al of him.

Now.

“Ever,” he whispers, gazing at me in the same way that Alrik once did, only this time it’s better, happening in real time.

I lift my face to his, capture his lips, and pul him back to me. My body heating, thrumming, wanting nothing more than to deepen this feeling—discover just how far it might go.

“Ever.” His voice is thick, hoarse, the words requiring great effort, when he adds, “Ever, not here. Not like this.”

I blink. Rub my lips together, as though awakening from a dream. Realizing we’re stil on the floor, when there are far more comfortable places we could be, including one that I manifested just before I came here.

I rise to my feet, and lead him downstairs, out to my car, and onto the curving, winding expanse of Coast Highway, until I pul up to the most beautiful, old, weathered stone manse perched up high on a cliff, with floor-to-ceiling windows that look down upon a swiftly churning sea—a dwel ing that wasn’t there just an hour before.

“Did you make this?” He turns to me.

I nod, grinning. “What can I say? I was hoping we’d come to an agreement. I was going to book us that room at the Montage, but I thought this was better, more private, more romantic. I hope it’s okay?”

He grasps my hand in his and we both hurry toward it. Scaling a long, winding, seemingly never-ending series of stairs until we reach the top, breathless for sure, but more with anticipation than the climb.

I swing the door open and motion him inside, seeing the way he laughs when he steps onto the old limestone floor and sees that despite the size of this place, despite its massive square footage, it only consists of one very large bedroom with a wood-burning fireplace, a beautiful four-poster bed, a gorgeous old woven rug, a wel -appointed bathroom, and nothing more.

I flush. I can’t help it. Quickly mumbling something about having not had much time, how we can always add to it if we decide to hang out for a while.

But he just smiles, stops the flow of excuses with a gently pressed finger he soon replaces with his lips, turning my suddenly hushed silence into a nice, long, deeply soulful kiss. Pul ing me toward him, toward the bed, voice softly whispering, “You are al that I want. Al that I need. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

He kisses me gently but thoroughly, taking his time, making a great effort to handle me with care. But even though I know our time together is infinite, that we’l always be together, I’m eager for more.

I tug at the hem of his sweater, yank it up high over his head and toss it aside. Pausing to explore the landscape of his chest—the curving hil s of his shoulders, the rippled val ey of his abs—before my fingers dip lower, working a button, a zipper, an elastic waistband.

And even though it’s not the first time I’ve seen him, I stil can’t stop the gasp from escaping my throat. Stil can’t stop myself from drinking in the astonishing sight of him.

He removes my clothes too. Fingers moving deftly, expertly, far more practiced than mine. And it’s not long before there’s nothing left between us—neither physical, nor mystical.

There is only he and I.

No barriers of any kind.

He anchors his leg over me, around me, until his body covers mine. My insides quivering with tingle and heat as I shutter my eyes to the warmth of him, the feel of him, then lazily lifting my lids to find his gaze burning into me. The two of us pul ed into the hypnotic lul and sway of each other, and it’s not long before he reaches down and joins us together.

Joins us in the way of Alrik and Adelina.

Tags: Alyson Noel The Immortals Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net