Page 69 of Destiny Redeemed
But I continued to shiver.
“Are you still cold?” he asked, settling beside me again. The firelight caught in his golden curls, casting him in an otherworldly glow. “Come here.”
Without waiting for my permission, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me against his side. The heat of his bare skin seeped through my thin slip, but the tremors wouldn’t stop. They weren’t from the cold—they were the echoes of screams I’d never uttered, the ghosts of a future I was desperately trying to erase.
“I just…” I began, then faltered. What could I possibly say?Sorry, I’m shaking because the place you’re going to is where I was murdered in another lifetime?“I’m just realizing how badly it could have ended… out there.”
His arm tightened around me. “Well, you should be glad that you have me then.”
I lifted my eyes to his, a caustic remark on my tongue—but the words died there. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his face, softening the sharp angles while highlighting the intensity in his blue eyes. I’d spent so long thinking of him as the Golden Prince that I’d forgotten how steel-like his gaze could be.
“Glad to have you?” I managed finally. “I think the jury’s still out on that one, Your Highness.”
His lips quirked up. “After I saved your life twice today? Most would consider that deserving of gratitude.”
“Most haven’t been kidnapped by their savior,” I retorted, though my voice lacked its usual edge. I was too aware of his arm around me, of how easily he could feel each tremble that passed through my body.
“Rescued,” he corrected. “And you’re still shivering.”
Before I could protest, Anderic moved with that preternatural speed of his. In one fluid motion, he lifted me up and pulled me onto his lap so I was straddling him. My thinslip rode up my thighs, and I gasped at the sudden change in position, my hands instinctively bracing against his bare chest.
“What are you—” I began, but the words caught in my throat as I found myself staring directly into his eyes, close enough to count each golden eyelash.
“You’re still cold,” he said simply, his voice dropping to a timbre that sent a different kind of shiver through me. “And I’ve been told I’m like a furnace.”
As if on cue, I became acutely aware of the heat radiating from his body. It seeped into me where our bodies touched—my inner thighs against his, my palms against his chest, his hands at my waist. The chill that had gripped me began to melt away, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with body temperature.
“Better?” he murmured, and I realized I’d stopped shivering.
“Yes,” I admitted, embarrassed by the breathlessness in my voice.
His eyes moved over my face, lingering on my lips before returning to meet my gaze. “Beautiful,” he whispered, almost to himself.
I wanted to say something cutting, something to break the tension that was building between us. But then his hand moved to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip, and my clever retorts abandoned me.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you at the ball tonight,” he confessed, his voice low. “In that midnight blue dress…” Then his lips were on mine.
The kiss was gentle at first, exploratory—but there was something different about the way he kissed me this time. His hands lingered longer at my waist before sliding around to the small of my back, pulling me flush against him. His lips weren’t just warm with searing adoration; there was something deeper, more urgent beneath them.
Something hungrier.
Something I felt blaze through my veins like wildfire. I should have pushed him away. I should have remembered every reason why this was a terrible idea. But instead, I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his golden curls, as if I’d been waiting for this moment longer than I dared admit.
When his mouth moved to my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my collarbone, a moan escaped me. The sound seemed to ignite something in him. His hands slid to my hips, grinding me against him, and I felt his hardness pressing against me through the thin fabric of his pants.
“You feel what you do to me?” Anderic growled against my skin, his breath hot against my trembling flesh. The words vibrated through me, making my entire body thrum with anticipation. “From the first moment, Ilyana. Mine.”
Mine. That’s what I told him at the ball in front of everyone.
That word -mine- should have made me furious, should have made me tear my nails across his perfect skin in defiance. Instead, it sparked something deep within me, a primal response that made me arch into him, desperate for more.
His lips brushed slowly beneath my ear, right over the rapid flutter of my pulse. I shivered as he trailed soft, deliberate kisses down the column of my throat, pausing at the hollow where breath caught and heat pooled. He continued lower, reverent and unhurried, tracing a path along my collarbone and down to the edge of my neckline.
His mouth moved lower, lips and tongue finding my taut nipple through the damp silk of my slip. The fabric clung to my skin as he nipped and sucked, each flick of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. My breath hitched. His other hand came up to palm the opposite one, squeezing gently, almost possessively, the heat of his touch searing through the fabric.
“Anderic,” I gasped, my hands gripping his shoulders so tightly I was sure I’d leave marks. The way he looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, was almost as intoxicating as the sensations coursing through my body.
With a practiced ease, he tugged the fabric down, exposing my breasts to the flickering firelight. His gaze raked over my exposed skin, and for a moment, he simply stared, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
