Page 115 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
“Definitely the most beautiful,” he murmured, leaning closer.
She leaned closer too. “I missed you so much.”
He studied her face intently. “When I awoke, I felt I was missing something important. I think it was you.” His hand lifted to rub his bare chest absently.
“I don’t care what happened in the past.” Harrow knew he didn’t remember, didn’t understand what she was talking about. But maybe, somewhere deep inside, he did. “I don’t care what you did or who you were. None of it matters.”
He frowned like he was struggling to make sense of things. All the while, he rubbed at his chest like it was paining him.
“The past is in the past. As long as we’re together.”
Somehow, the space between them had shrunk down to mere inches. Still, his eyes searched hers so intently. She stared back into those fiery irises with equal intent, daring him to see into her soul, to see what she truly felt for him.
“Is this real?” he murmured.
She nodded, lifting a hand. She stroked the edge of his jaw, tracing that flawless bone structure, nearly impossible to see for its incredible darkness. She remembered wanting to scream in horror at her first sight of his true appearance. The memory filled her with shame. Looking at him now, she saw nothing but the man she loved. Thinking him anything else was a mistake she would never make again.
Lost in thoughts of his own, Raith reached up to stroke the frizzy mess of her hair, reminding her she hadn’t brushed it in days or taken the time to put on a nicer dress. Her face was likely caked in sand.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, and she flushed with pleasure.
And then he leaned down to kiss her, and she melted against him without a thought.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Some force had taken over Raith, and he was powerless to resist the exquisite creature sitting beside him on the bed. She had run to him across the sandy desert—how had he gotten there in the first place?—and then taken him back to her little home on wheels and told him she loved him. This woman, this indescribable, glorious woman, had crossed the desert to find him because she loved him.
It seemed impossible. He was likely dreaming.
If so, he was determined to enjoy every second of it before he awoke to whatever dismal reality awaited him. The woman called Harrow melted in his embrace, moaning softly like his touch was her greatest pleasure. It floored him.
It encouraged him. He deepened the kiss, pushing her lips apart with his own to dive into her mouth with his tongue.
He had done this before, he realized. Somehow, he knew what she liked. He knew how to cradle her head in his hand in the way she craved, trapping her against him. He knew what the curve of her waist would feel like as he ran his other hand down her back. He knew how firmly she liked to be gripped on her voluptuous hips, and when he did so, he was instantly rewarded with another soft moan.
Excitement coursed through his blood. Confidence filled him.
Maybe he could actually give her what she sought from him. Maybe he could be good enough for her.
He gripped her waist and hauled her into his lap, her shapely legs straddling his hips. Forgetting he was naked beneath the blankets until they slipped down, he was about to cover himself again when she rocked against his hard shaft with another moan of pleasure, nothing but her thin dress between their bodies.
His eyes fell shut. This pleasure, this familiarity… It felt like coming home. It felt like the only place he ever wanted to be, the only place he was meant to be.
So why did he still feel such debilitating grief?
It didn’t matter now. He couldn’t let anything distract him from this precious moment. Harrow rocked against him again, clutching his shoulders with soft hands, and he forgot everything else. He slid her dress up to grip her bare thighs, moaning at the feel of her supple flesh beneath his fingers.
She pulled back, looking at him with so much desire, he affirmed again he must be dreaming.
Then she tugged the whole dress off and threw it over her shoulder.
He sucked in a breath, his hungry gaze devouring her. The fullness of her breasts, the softness of her belly, the thick curves of her backside and thighs…
Goddess, he wanted to grab all that flesh at once and feel it spilling over his hands. He wanted to feast on every inch of her until she was crying out his name—
What was his name again?
“Raith,” she said, squirming beneath his hungry gaze. “You’re teasing me.” Her eyes were playful as she stretched her arms up to gather her hair in a wild bundle atop her head.
