Page 144 of The Call of Crimson
A few tense heartbeats pass before I break.
“You really do hate dresses,” I murmur, a rough laugh breaking from my chest. “That's a mighty declaration coming from you.”
The sound that breaks from her is somewhere between a sob and a choked laugh. The tears that were pooling in her eyes now freely flow down her cheeks. “I really do,” she manages, her voice hitching with relief.
I release her chin, my fingers reaching to caress her cheek and wipe away the rogue tears.
“I’m sorry, Aurelius,” she says softly. “I’m sorry I punished you for so long and refused to hear you. I used Ayden to hurt you because I was hurting, and that wasn’t fair to either of you.”
Her voice trembles, but she doesn’t falter. “I still don’t know how we fix this. I still don’t know how we dissolve this betrothal without risking war. But I want you. I choose you.”
“Breyla,” I whisper, my heart breaking open inside my chest. “It’s always been you.”
I run my thumb along her jaw. “I couldn’t explain it for years, but that’s how long I’ve been fighting what I feel for you.” The confession slips off my tongue like the sweetest honey.
She blinks up at me, confused. “You hated me.”
“I’ve never hated you, little demon.” A smile curls my lips. “Found you infuriatingly stubborn and obnoxious at times? Absolutely. But hate you? Never.”
I step closer, my voice a rasp of truth. “You have been the source of my greatest frustration and the epitome of my most consuming passion for years.”
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate to utter that last confession for fear it will shatter the tumultuous peace between us.
“I don’t care if we shouldn’t be together,” she says fiercely. ”You feel right. You feel like home.”
“You are my home, Breyla.” I drop my hand to her waist, pulling her flush against me.
“Where you go, I go. You are mine.”
Suddenly, there is far too much clothing between us.
A subtle gasp escapes when I capture her lips with my own. The kiss is an all-consuming representation of every emotion floating between us. It tastes like passion, sorrow, regret, joy, desire, and undeniable familiarity all woven together.
The heavy black robe slides from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. The white nightgown she wears does nothing to hide her body from me, the hardened peaks of her nipples, the curves I know as well as my own skin.
It’s too much. And not enough.
She pulls the nightgown over her head in one fluid motion, leaving her gloriously bare before me.
I walk her backward until she hits the bed, the air around us electric.
Her fingers snap, erecting a sound barrier around the room. A wicked gleam dances in her eye.
“We don’t need anyone hearing what’s about to happen,” I murmur approvingly, shoving her down onto the mattress.
She cocks a brow at me. “That’s not what you said the last time.”
I lean over her, shoving my sleep pants down with one hand, leaving us both completely exposed.
“I had a message to send last time. But now that we know you belong to me, no one else will ever hear those noises from you but me.”
“That shouldn’t be arousing,” she mumbles.
Goose bumps pebble her flesh as I trace a finger down the center of her chest, drawing lazy but intentional patterns over her most sensitive spots.
“Everything you do is arousing to me, little demon,” I counter, peppering soft kisses along her jaw.
She gasps as my fingers find the soft flesh of her thighs, then climb higher until I’m perched at her entrance.
