Page 94 of The General's Gift
But then she turned, copper flame curling in her fist. She had cut a lock of her hair. In deft movements, she braided it and wound it around his wrist.
“So you’ll never be without color,” she whispered. “You’ll carry me with you. Always.”
He would carry her regardless. She was already inside of him. But Hawk needed more than the ghost of her memory or a braid around his arm. He scooped her up and spun her, bare limbs clinging to him, her hair flying loose. Her laughter broke free, breathless, bright, the sweetest sound he had ever coaxed from her. He turned again just to hear it once more, her head thrown back, her breasts brushing his chest with every twirl.
When he slowed at last, she was flushed and smiling, her breath quick against his throat. He carried her across the chamber and laid her down upon the bed. Hawk stood above her for a moment, drinking in the sight—bare, laughing, radiant. A vision to sustain him in every darkness.
He stripped off the last of his clothes, boots thudding to the floor, linen falling away until nothing separated them. No uniform, no rank, no shield.
He climbed in after her, wanting every inch of her marked, every inch of her known. Slowly, he kissed everywhere—the hollow of her throat, her inner arm, the arch of her foot—tasting her salt, her soap, her laughter. She quivered beneath his mouth, crying out when his teeth found the tender flesh inside her thigh.
He climbed atop her, bracing on his forearms. Their eyes locked, and the feeling that surged through him was too vast to contain, an ocean flooding his chest. He needed to be inside her. He slid his cock along her entrance, coaxing her wetter, until her hips lifted, pleading without words.
She was ready. He could not hold back.
He felt the first give of her body, and withdrew an inch, her heat clutching tight around him, refusing to let him go. The sensation nearly undid him, but he pushed a fraction deeper. She muffled her cry against his shoulder, her breath hot against his skin.
“Be brave for me, Celeste,” he rasped, his mouth at her ear, breath ragged. “Let not a single line mar your face. I cannot bear to hurt you.”
He pressed forward, met resistance, and froze, shuddering with the effort not to plunge. What the hell was he doing? He was no better than a thief, taking what was never his to claim.
“This is wrong, I shouldn’t–”
“There isn’t a single place inside of me that does not belong to you.”
She was giving herself to him. All of her. Not a battlefield seized by force, but a gift—unthinkable, undeserved. The ache in his chest was worse than any wound he had ever taken. His body rebelled against restraint, hips driving forward. He felt the sharp give of her maidenhead, the tight ring of resistance giving way, and the sound she made undid him completely. He clutched her as if he could anchor her to him forever, shuddering as he sank deep into the place she swore was his.
He stilled, buried to the hilt. Heat wrapped him, searing, wet, alive. He could feel her heartbeat and every tremor of her breath. Her thighs trembled around his hips, her fingers clutching his shoulders. The shock of being inside her, so tight, impossibly soft, blazed through him until it was no longer pain or pleasure but both, fused together, consuming.
In her, time dissolved. The years of command, the battles, the gray—all stripped away until he was young again, seeing only her, those promise-bright eyes. Inside her, the world was no longer ash. Color bled back into him, unbearable in its beauty.
He moved. It was hard to draw back when every nerve clamored to press closer, to bury himself in her until there was no Hawk left, only this. She laced her arms around his neck, her long ballerina legs binding his flanks. She touched him gently where he was rough, yielding where he was demanding.
Then her hands rose, trembling, to cradle his face. Her palms framed him with a tenderness that pierced deeper than any blade.
It was a summons to surrender. Not only his body, but everything—his defenses, his pride, the armor he had worn all his life. To be hers, not for a night, not for a season, but forever.
He wanted it. God, he wanted it. His heart hammered against his ribs, straining to leap into her keeping. He kissed her hard, almost desperate, as though he could smother her plea with his mouth—then tore free of her arms before the tenderness could finish him.
Panting, he rolled her onto her stomach. Her hair spilled across the pillows, her back arched in a trust that seared hotter than any entreaty.
She turned her head toward him. “Alexander?”
“I can’t—” His voice cracked as he positioned himself behind her. “I need you like this.”
He thrust again, sliding into her heat, deeper from this angle. Feverishly, he bent over her, one hand tangled in her hair, the other guiding her hips back to meet his. Her sobs of pleasure shredded what remained of his restraint. He guided her harder, faster, until sweat ran down his spine and his lungs burned. He expected to feel shame, debasement—taking her like this, raw, from behind. Instead, he felt reverence, as if worship lived here too, in the ferocity of their joining.
But it was not enough. Never enough.
With a groan, he shifted, hauling her upright into the saddle of his hips, her thighs spread wide across his, his cock still burieddeep inside her. The new angle squeezed him tight, and his vision went dark at the edges.
Her hair whipped against his jaw, wild and damp with sweat. Her hands clawed for purchase, found his forearms where they banded around her belly. He locked her there, held her impaled on him, every shudder of her body rippling straight through his bones. Hawk bit down on her shoulder as he surged into her, relentless.
She let her head fall against his neck. She was submitting to him, as if he had the right to conquer her like this.
A savage need ripped through him—to take more, to claim more. He slid his hand lower, cupping her mound, fingers spreading to feel the slick heat that pulsed around him. He stroked her clit until she writhed helplessly in his arms.
Whimpering, she twisted in his arms. “I love you.”
