Page 117 of Craving Carla

“Careful, baby,” I warn, trying to be gentle, but she just smiles around me and continues her sweet torture.

I’ve received this kind of pleasure countless times over the centuries, but this—this is different. Because it’s Carla. Becausethere’s love behind every touch, every stroke of her tongue. Because my heart beats for her alone.

When I feel myself getting close, I pull her up, flipping us so she’s beneath me again. I capture her mouth in a kiss that tastes like heaven.

“Wrap your legs around me,” I whisper against her lips, and she complies immediately.

I enter her again, slowly this time, savoring the sensation. We move together like waves meeting the shore—inevitable, rhythmic, perfect. Our fingers intertwine beside her head, and I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in with every thrust.

This isn’t just sex anymore. This is communion. This is worship. This is everything I’ve been searching for all along.

When we finally collapse together, spent and satisfied, I gather her against me, her head finding its place against me.

“I’m looking forward to starting our new future together,” I murmur into her hair. “And meeting Angie tomorrow night—hopefully we can get some answers about lifting the veil.”

Carla drifts off quickly now, lulled by the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. I stay awake, staring at the ceiling, offering a silent prayer to Fate.

Thank you for giving me this woman—this magnificent woman that I surely don’t deserve. I’ll do anything to keep her. Anything.

As her breathing deepens in sleep, I hold her closer, savoring the weight of her against me. For the first time in over a thousand years, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

40

Carla

Iwake up, memories of last night flooding back. Amari’s hands, his mouth, the way he touched me, how he made me feel. I smile and reach across the bed, expecting to find him there.

My hand meets cold sheets instead.

My eyes snap open and I sit up, clutching the blanket against me. His side of the bed is empty, the pillow still bearing the indent of his head but no trace of him. Something twists in my stomach—an old fear, a familiar abandonment.

I slide out of bed, my legs still wobbly from last night’s activities. My muscles ache in places I didn’t know could ache, reminding me of each position, each moment Amari claimed me as his. I grab my robe from the hook on the door but decide against it, moving naked to the bathroom instead.

The cool tile under my feet makes me tense as I turn on the shower. While the water warms, I brush my teeth and splash my face, trying to shake off the lingering doubts. Steam buildsin the small bathroom, fogging the mirror as I grab a towel and washcloth.

I step under the spray, letting the hot water run over me, washing away the traces of last night. As I rinse the conditioner from my hair, I hear movement in the bedroom. When I turn off the water and reach for my towel, I see Amari standing in the doorway.

He’s already dressed in another one of his impeccable suits, not a wrinkle in sight, his shoes polished to a mirror shine. How does he always manage to look like he stepped straight out of a catalog?

“I wanted to let you sleep in,” he says, his eyes tracking a water droplet as it slides down between my breasts. “You needed the rest after last night.”

Before I can respond, he’s in front of me, vampire speed bringing him across the bathroom in less than a heartbeat. His hands cup my face gently, thumbs stroking across my cheekbones as he stares into my eyes with an intensity that makes my breath catch.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice still rough with sleep.

“Making sure,” he says, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “Making sure last night wasn’t just the wine and your emotions from Verde and Petra. That you actually meant what you said to me.”

I roll my eyes, a smile tugging at my lips. Rising on my tiptoes, I steal a quick, soft kiss.

“No, it wasn’t any of that, Amari. I still love you.”

I step around him, walking through the bedroom, but he’s right behind me, arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me close. He buries his face in my neck, his nose brushing against the claim mark he left there. My head tilts back automatically, a soft sound escaping my throat.

His hands slide up from my waist, catching the edges of my towel and tugging gently until it falls to the floor with a soft thump. The cool air raises goosebumps across my skin, but his body is warm against mine—warmer than usual, now that his heart beats.

I turn in his arms, pressing myself against him, uncaring of the way my wet body dampens his expensive suit. Our lips meet in a kiss that speaks of belonging, of certainty. There’s none of the desperate hunger from last night—just calm assurance that we have all the time in the world.

Amari keeps the kiss brief, then reaches around me for the bottle of lotion on the dresser. He kneels before me, squeezing some into his palm before starting at my feet, working the lotion into my skin with firm, sure strokes.

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