Page 39 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

It heals something inside I hadn't known was broken to begin with.

His tongue presses against the seam of my lips and there is an explosion at the base of my spine as I let him in. My nails find purchase on his forearms, sinking past his suit and digging into his skin, and he groans, hand gripping my thigh tight enough to bruise.

There is nothing at all gentle about the way he devours my mouth. It is filthy. Deep. Consuming in the way that Soren always is. His mouth is hot, his tongue is hot and I am in heat, shivering with need.

A line. I should draw a line.

It was difficult to go back over that line that night he watched me touch myself. But this is different. I can tell that this will stay with me for a lifetime.

The air is not chilly enough to catch up to the heat of his skin as his fingers push past the slit, the movement simultaneous to the angled tug of my head that gives him complete control of the kiss, forces me only to take from him, almost as if he is proving a point.

His tongue roams my mouth, slides against mine, velvety smooth. Charring. His hand is under my dress, pushing a dangerous line. I'm still dangling off the edge of a railing within an inch of my life.

And I must have lost it completely because I lean back and buck my hips in pursuit of his fingers. And they brush against my panties, so soaked, the thought of peeling them off seems right enough to make me moan.

"Fuck," Soren cusses and the sound goes all the way to my toes, curling them.

The railing groans under the weight of both of us and I am suddenly hoisted off the iron, my back hitting...the door? I hadn't even felt him moving at all.

He's so tall that even with my legs locked around his torso, he still hulks over me, neck bent as he—oh.

The thin strip of my dress is pushed aside and I suck in air as Soren's mouth finds my collarbone, scattering kisses across my chest in a wild frenzy. My hands ride up his shirt, flattening against his broad chest and I feel him stiffen, because even if he's touched me every time, I've never initiated any kind of touch.

My palms feel out his chest, his arms, his shoulders. I push back the suit jacket, insides tight and insanely hungry for something I can't name.

Winter. He smells so much like winter. And spice. And something so delectable, sweet. I have his face in my hands before I can piece together the thought of why it...this feels so familiar.

And his eyes undo me. The green in them is nearly gone, replaced by a black blown so wide, you would think he's fucking high. His lips are swollen and parted and his cheeks are reddened. His scar adds to his devastating beauty and I don't know what I'm doing when I bring my lips to the scar and kiss it.

Soren makes a sound deep in his throat. I kiss his dusky, long lashes. I kiss his high cheekbones, his blushing cheeks, the shell of his pretty ear, and I catch his earlobe between my teeth, biting him.

His hand slams into the wall beside my head and clenches, his hips rolling against mine.

I moan, burying my nose in his neck in a long, sharp inhale. "You smell so good, Soren," I murmur, heavily drunk on his scent. His pulse pounds as heavily and quickly as mine...almost in synch, and my teeth ache too...

I gasp when he fists my hair, ruining the curls I'd so carefully styled into my hair this evening, and yanks my face back from his neck. Inside his green eyes are burning rings of gold and an elongated canine teases his lips as he growls in a voice that's distorted, "You do that and there's no going back. You don't want that. Not yet."

I don't understand what he means but I don't care for it anyway because he presses my side into the door, dropping my left leg so that he can...

He sets me down, panting. "You aren't..." His arms clench on either side of me, forehead pressing against the wall above me. "You aren't healed yet."

The doctor had said it'd take a little while yet before I'd be cleared for penetration of any kind. I didn't think he had beenpaying attention and admittedly, I had hoped for a little more a few seconds ago, irrespective of the pain.

One touch and I've gone bonkers.

I nod, chest heaving, and for a moment, there is only silence, the music coming from the lower floors, the sound of crickets coming from the woods and Soren's heavy breathing. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but an unwelcome thought pops into my head out of nowhere.

What if he saw the little pouch that has yet to snap back and felt irritated by it? Is that why he stopped? Is he using the excuse of healing to pull away from?—

Soren snarls at me as if he can hear my thoughts and I jolt, back hitting the door and jostling the frame.

He snatches my wrist and brings my hand down, down to the huge bulge in his pants, making me feel him. "Does this feel like an irritation, Sera?"

I snatch my hand back, mortified. "You can hear my thoughts?"

His gaze shifts to the wall, like he can see something I cannot. "No, but you wear every feeling on your face."

I start to tell him that the word 'irritation' is a little too specific, but his palm shifts from where it clutches the wall to grip the side of my face, the hinge of my jaw. "You are beautiful. Childbirth suits you, and this?" His hand presses against my stomach and the little loose skin I couldn't help but stare at this morning. Lilia says it'll be gone in a few weeks, but I can't help but feel a little self-conscious. And fat.

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