Chapter 90 Release
Kier’s POV
Her scent hit me like a physical blow.
Not just the clean soap from her shower, or the faint trace of the wine she’d drunk with dinner. Underneath it, the wild perfume of her. Of us. Something ancient and powerful that had been dormant, waiting. The bond thrummed in my blood, a steady, insistent beat that demanded more.
Every instinct, primal and possessive, screamed at me to touch, claim and taste her.
I held myself still by sheer force of will, my hands still locked behind my head. Because this was more than just the bond. This was Sable. And she wasn't a prize to be won. She was a choice I needed her to make again and again, starting with this moment.
She stood there, bathed in the soft city glow from the window, all lean muscle and soft curves.
The air in the room felt different. Heavier. Charged.
Every shallow breath I took was filled with her, with the electric potential humming between us. I watched her chest rise and fall, a rapid, betraying rhythm that matched my own. She was trying to appear calm, in control, but I could feel the tremor running through the bond, the flicker of uncertainty warring with a rising tide of want.
It was that flicker that finally broke my resolve.
I let my hands drop from behind my head, the muscles in my shoulders protesting the sudden release of tension. I didn't reach for her, not yet. I pushed myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to sit facing her. We were close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, close enough to see the fine tremor in her hands.
"Come here," I said. The words were quiet, but they held the weight of a command, and I saw the brief flash of defiance in her eyes before she took a hesitant step forward.
I reached out, but I didn't pull her down. I let my fingers ghost over the jut of her hip, a barely-there touch that made her inhale sharply. My hand slid up her side, tracing the delicate curve of her waist, my thumb stroking the soft skin there.
I let my fingers trail higher, over the ladder of her ribs, feeling the frantic, beautiful beat of her heart against my palm. My gaze fell on the scar on her left side, a jagged reminder of what she went through. Hot, possessive anger rose in my throat, sharp and bitter. I pushed it down.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to that scar. Not a kiss of passion, but one of reverence. An apology. A promise. Her breath hitched, a soft, broken sound. Her fingers threaded into my hair, her nails scraping gently against my scalp.
"Kier," she whispered.
I responded by trailing my mouth upward, mapping a path across her torso with kisses that were barely more than whispers of skin against skin. I tasted the salt on her skin, the unique essence of her. My hands roamed, learning the geography of her body. The strong line of her back, the soft swell of her ass, the powerful muscles of her thighs.
I worshipped her. That was the only word for it. I worshipped the strength in her legs, the way they tensed under my touch. I worshipped the softness of her belly, the way it quivered when I traced the line of her navel with my tongue. I worshipped the weight of her breasts in my hands, the perfect rosy peaks that hardened into tight buds under my thumbs.
I guided her down onto the bed, her body pliant beneath mine. I braced myself on my elbows, careful not to crush her, but wanting to feel every inch of her pressed against me. I looked down at her, at the wild, beautiful woman who had been my torment and my salvation. Her auburn hair was spread out on my pillow like a fan of silk. Her eyes, usually so guarded, were wide and dark with a need that mirrored my own.
She was everything.
I lowered my head and captured her nipple in my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive peak. She arched against me, a silent plea for more.
I gave her what she asked for. I lavished attention on her breasts, moving from one to the other, my hands and mouth working in tandem. I sucked and nipped and licked, driving her to the edge of madness with pleasure alone. Her breathy moans were the most beautiful music I had ever heard, a symphony of desire that was just for me.
My hand drifted down her stomach, my fingers tracing the line of her hip before delving into the slick, wet heat between her thighs. She cried out, her hips bucking against my hand.
"Easy," I murmured against her skin. "I've got you."
I explored her slowly, deliberately, learning every fold, every sensitive spot that made her gasp and writhe. I found the small, swollen nub of her clit and circled it with my thumb, applying just enough pressure to make her see stars.
"Please," she begged, her voice hoarse with need.
I smiled against her breast. "Please what, Sable?"
"Please… more."
I slid one finger inside her, then another, reveling in the tight, wet heat that gripped me.
I moved lower, my mouth trailing a path of fire down her body. I could feel her anticipation, her body humming with a tension that was almost unbearable. I settled between her thighs, my hands gripping her hips to hold her still.
I looked up at her, at the woman who had haunted my dreams for years. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated pleasure. And then, I leaned in and tasted her.
She was sweet and salty and everything I had ever wanted. I explored her with my tongue, my lips, my teeth, driving her to the brink of ecstasy again and again. Her hands fisted in my hair, her hips bucking against my face as she chased her release.