Page 53 of Moonlit Fate

“Precisely.” She took a small sip, grimacing before settling back onto the bed beside me.

We spoke of inconsequential things, stories from the books, anecdotes from our childhoods that seemed both distant and achingly present until the words fell away, leaving only a comfortable silence.

“You can have the bed.” I stood up and stretched my arms. “I’ll take the couch. You’ve had a long day.”

Aria’s gaze caught mine, and the imploring look in her eyes tugged at the very fibers of my being. “Would you stay? Please? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Of course,” I said without hesitation. I would not leave her side. Not now, not when she needed me. There was no place I’d rather be than here with her, ensuring she was safe, wanted, cherished.

The bed dipped slightly as I settled back beside her. Aria nestled closer, her head finding the crook of my shoulder.

“Atticus,” she said. Her hand lay tentatively on my chest, moving to the short sleeves of my shirt and tracing the outline of the tattoos inked on my biceps.

“Shh.” I placed my hand on hers to reassure her. “You’re safe here with me.”

She relaxed, her body molding to mine. Her silver hair cascaded over my arm, the luminescence catching the scant moonlight that made it down to the bed.

Gently, I cradled her face, turning it up toward mine. I caressed her cheek with my thumb, a simple gesture that spoke volumes of how much I cared for her.

The connection between us sparked, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment our paths crossed.

Aria shifted, draping her leg over mine. I resisted the urge to claim her then and there, choosing instead to explore this newfound tenderness between us. She shivered as my palm grazed her side. The heat of her skin beckoned beneath the cotton, and I drew my hand in slow, languid circles that ventured along the curve of her waist.

Her fingers tickled the lines of muscle along my arm, hesitantly at first, but growing bolder with each pass.

“Let me take care of you,” I said. I needed to show her, in actions rather than words, exactly how much she meant to me.

"Yes," she whispered. "Atticus, please."

The shirt she wore—my shirt—was a barrier I yearned to cross. My hands slipped beneath the soft fabric, making contact with the silk of her skin. The sensation of her, so close yet still veiled with the thin cotton, was a tantalizing torment.

Gently, I tugged the material up and over her head, then tossed the shirt to the floor. I palmed her soft, heavy breasts, cupping them reverently, drinking in the sight of her body, the enticing curves that begged to be touched. Her skin was like satin beneath my fingertips, her nipples pebbled and hard against my palms as I traced gentle circles around them.

She arched into my touch, and I leaned in to capture a nipple with my mouth. The taste of her was electric on my tongue, and I reveled in the low moan that left her.

I moved higher, kissing each ridge of her neck before trailing kisses along her collarbone. My mouth found hers then, hungry yet tender as she parted her lips for me. Our tongues tangled together, a dance of passion that seemed both delicate and wild.

Aria’s hands roamed over me, under my shirt, and our lips parted only long enough for her to remove it. She traced the lines of muscle on my chest before dipping lower to skim downward. Her deft fingers slipped along the waistband of my pants, teasingly pulling at the fabric. My body shuddered with anticipation as her fingers traced circles on my abdomen, and goosebumps rose on my skin.

Her touch was electric, every brush of her fingertips sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. Each gentle stroke made my heartbeat quicken. Desire thrummed through me, urging me to take her there and then, skin on skin. But tonight was for tenderness and comfort, not for taking—not yet. It was enough to know that she was willing, that she trusted me enough to explore this together.

Her palm glided down my chest and stomach, lightly grazing the curls of hair that trailed towards my groin. I gritted my teeth as she made contact with my hardness. I wanted her so fucking badly that it hurt.

She nipped at my bottom lip, pulling away just enough to look into my eyes. A flutter of fear and anticipation danced within those beautiful depths.

I cupped her cheek gently and brushed away a lock of hair, murmuring reassurance against the silence that hung between us. “Take your time.” My voice was thick with desire but full of patience. I wanted her to know she was safe with me, that we had all the time in the world to explore this bond that burned bright between us.

She studied my expression before leaning in for another soft kiss, slower and more deliberate than before. Her fingers slipped back down to the waistband of my pants, undoing the buttons and zip and lowering the fabric down my legs until I kicked them off. She traced the fabric of my boxer shorts and tugged at the elastic gently, pulling it down just enough to peek beneath.

“Holy hell,” she whispered in awe, then placed a tender kiss on my chest, right above where our bodies touched, a sign of surrender and trust.

Her hesitation gave way to curiosity as she traced circles around my navel, her fingers moving lower still. Aria grazed the head of my erection through the thin fabric, and I groaned softly into her hair.

She leaned in closer, tracing the head of my cock through the fabric, teasing me with a gentle swipe. Our heavy breathing filled the room as we succumbed to the passion that had been building since our first encounter.

“Aria,” I moaned, my hands tightening on her hips as she continued to tease me. I could feel her hesitation, the uncertainty that lingered on her tongue like honey.

Aria nudged my boxers down, releasing my aching cock into the cool air. Before I could think twice, her hand curled around me. She stroked, learning the length of me, tracing every vein and ridge as she teased the sensitive head. I gasped at the contact, my back arching off the bed. Every nerve ending tingled as she continued to stroke me. She sighed against my skin, her other hand finding its way to my shaft as her grip tightened around it.

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