Chapter 56 I want this
~ Lyra's POV ~
I did like what I saw, but I only nodded my head to the question, never daring, no matter how much I wanted, to say it out loud.
He stepped closer until there was no longer any space between us, and the heat of his body seeped into mine as though it had always belonged there. I could feel the steady strength of him, the quiet restraint beneath it, and it made my breath come shallow and uneven.
“Lyra,” he said softly, my name sounding more intimate on his lips. “You are trembling. Are you scared?”
“i’m not scared,” I replied, even though my hands betrayed me as they rested against his bare chest. “I think I am just feeling too much at once.” I said, running my fingers around his body as if I wanted to memorize him.
His fingers closed gently over my wrists, not to stop me, but to anchor me. “Then look at me,” he said.
I lifted my eyes to his, and whatever I found there stole the last of my hesitation. His gaze was dark with want, but it was tempered by patience and something deeply protective. It made me feel seen rather than consumed.
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he continued quietly. “I have never felt so complete and relaxed with anyone else in my life. You bring a kind of peace and longing I had never felt before.”
The admission sent a slow warmth curling low in my belly. “I feel the same way too,” I confessed. “It’s a strange and powerful feeling that I don't understand myself and cannot bring myself to fight.”
His hands slid from my wrists to my waist, firm and sure. “Then don't hold yourself back now,” he murmured. “Not with me.”
I nodded, as words felt clumsy compared to the way my body leaned into his touch.
When he kissed me again, it was slower, deeper, and filled with an intensity that made my knees weak. I responded without restraint this time, my arms lifting to wrap around his neck as if they had always known the way.
He groaned softly against my mouth, the sound sending a shiver through me. “If you keep kissing me like that,” he said, his lips brushing mine between words, “I will lose what little control I have left.”
“I don't want you to stop,” I whispered.
That was all the permission he seemed to need. His hands moved with purpose, exploring my body through my clothes with a reverence that made my breath hitch. Every touch felt deliberate, as though he was memorizing me, and I found myself arching into him without meaning to.
“You are doing beautifully,” he murmured when I hesitated, my fingers clumsy as they traced his skin. “Touch me like you mean it. I'm all yours. There's no right or wrong here. There's only us.”
His reassurance loosened something inside me. I let my hands roam, learning the solid warmth of him, the way his muscles shifted beneath my touch. Each quiet sound he made felt like a victory, and the realization that I could affect him this way sent a thrill through me.
When he rested his forehead against mine again, his breathing was heavier, matching my own.
“I know you have not done this before,” he said carefully, “so I need you to be certain you want me to go ahead. Because it will be impossible for me to stop after now.”
I didn't have to think long. I wanted this just as badly. My body was on fire, and the strange longing and heat in my core needed some relief, which I somehow knew he could give.
“I am certain,” I said, my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “I want this.”
Something fierce and tender crossed his face at the same time. “Then I will be gentle,” he promised. “And I will not let this be something you regret.”
He guided me backward toward the bed, never breaking eye contact, as though afraid I might disappear if he did. When the backs of my knees touched the mattress, he followed me down, his weight braced on his arms so he did not crush me.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” he said softly.
I nodded, even though I wasn't sure I understood why he said that. What could go wrong in such a situation when all I was feeling was pleasure and an intense longing for even more?
What followed felt less like a loss of control and more like a surrender I had been waiting to make. Each kiss grew warmer, each touch more certain, until the world narrowed to the rhythm we found together.
Soon his hands slid beneath my clothes and found my bare skin, sending a sharp awareness through my body. Before I could properly register what was happening, the fabric of my shirt was lifted and removed, leaving my upper body exposed to him. The air felt cooler against my skin, and the sudden vulnerability made my breath catch in my throat.
Instinctively, I felt the urge to cover my breasts with my hands, a reflex born from shyness rather than discomfort. I had barely begun to move when he caught my wrists gently but firmly, stopping me before I could cover myself.
“Do not hide yourself from me,” he said softly. “You are beautiful and perfectly crafted. There is nothing about you that deserves shame.”
As he spoke, one of his fingers began to trace slow, invincible patterns over my skin, starting at my collarbone and moving downward. His touch was feather light, almost reverent, as though he were memorizing every inch of me. His eyes never left mine, holding my gaze with an intensity that made it impossible to look away, as if he wanted me to truly believe every word he was saying.
His finger continued its descent, following the natural curves of my body until it reached the gentle swell of my breasts. My breathing grew uneven, each inhale deeper than the last, my body responding before my mind could catch up. When his finger finally brushed against one of my nipples, a soft sigh escaped my lips, filled with unexpected pleasure and need.
In that moment, my thoughts scattered, leaving only a single, overwhelming desire. I wanted him to touch me again, just like that, and I knew from the way my body leaned subtly into his hand that he felt it too.