Page 48 of Blood Vows
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised, and though the words were gentle, the sight of him above me stole my breath. He was overwhelming, tall, broad, carved in pale stone. The sheer scale of him should have frightened me, but instead, it made something inside me tremble with anticipation rather than fear.
He moved closer, the heat of him flooding the small space between us. My thoughts tangled as my gaze traced the lines of his body, the play of muscle beneath damp skin. Every inch of him spoke of power barely restrained, of a man who could destroy or worship with equal devotion.
Whatever trepidation had flickered in my eyes, he saw it.But of course, he did.His expression softened, the tension in his jaw easing as he lowered himself over me until he was kneeling on either side of my legs. The movement was slow, as though he feared breaking something fragile.
When his hand lifted, the backs of his fingers brushed against my cheek, tracing the line of my face with a tenderness that unraveled me completely. No words were needed as that simple touch said everything his guarded lips couldn’t.
It was comfort.
It was acceptance.
And it was the moment I knew I would never fear him again.
That hand, like before, now ran down my center, making the journey between the valley of my breasts and down my stomach. Until finally it reached the waistband of my pajamas. He traced his fingers beneath the thin line of fabric, just below the edge of elastic, his touch so light it felt like a whisper against my skin.
Every motion was deliberate, unhurried, as though time itself bowed to his will. He moved with patience that felt like it was bordering on worship, each brush of his fingertips sending shivers spiraling through me. It wasn’t a rush for possession… it was exploration, adoration, a slow claiming of every heartbeat between us.
It was as if he meant to memorize this moment, to imprint it on his very soul. And with every languid caress, I couldn’t help but believe he could. Which meant my pants were pulled down in achingly slow movements, teasing me with what was to come. As if he were unwrapping his most perfect gift, taking his time to prolong the anticipation.
He tossed the offending item of clothing behind him, as if it never should have been there in the first place. The same went for my underwear, as it was the last part of me left hidden, but not for long. His fingertip reached out and traced the lace edges that curled around the top of my thighs, making me visibly shudder. It was as if he was fascinated by the very sight of me, as he drank in every reaction I made.
But then he hooked his fingers under each side of my panties and started to pull them down so slowly, I felt the whisper of material caress my skin.
In a swift, practiced movement, one that spoke of anticipation rather than haste, he drew back just enough to look at me. A silver glow that intensified as his gaze swept along my body, one now lay beneath him, naked as he was. It was as though he feared I might vanish if he blinked, and I held my breath, waiting for his thoughts to take shape in words. When they finally came, they struck through me like a tremor.
“My very own goddess,”he murmured, his voice low and rough.
The sound of it unraveled me. All the nights I’d imagined what this would feel like, all the unspoken longing between us…None of it compared to this moment. Heat flushed through me, and it had little to do with the fire crackling in the hearth. My pulse stuttered as he leaned closer, the air between us thick with something that felt both fragile and inevitable.
When he finally moved, it was with care, slow, like a man terrified of breaking something sacred as our naked bodies came together. He also must have sensed my struggle, for his gaze softened even as it burned through me. Those midnight eyes held mine, steady and grounding, until the air between us seemed to hum.
“Breathe,”he whispered, his voice rough velvet. Then his lips came over mine as he told me,
“Just breathe and…”
“…let me take care of you.”
19
WHEN DESIRE IGNITES
“…Let me take care of you.”
I could only nod, my words lost somewhere between my thoughts and my heartbeat. His touch was a quiet command and a promise all at once, coaxing rather than taking. Every brush of his skin against mine sent a cascade of awareness through me until even the slightest contact felt amplified, like my body had been waiting all this time just to feel this way.
He was vast above me, his frame a living wall of strength that blocked out everything else. I felt small beneath him, fragile even, yet never safer than in that moment. The way he held himself, careful, deliberate, as though the world might splinter if he lost control. It made it clear that he was fighting something far greater than desire.
It was as if he was holding back the storm itself, and somehow, I was the calm he sought within it. Yet he still took his time, savoring every nuance. Every breath. Every small sound I made.
But then, instead of doing what I expected, he shifted, rolling his large frame to the side of me. Without a word, he proppedhimself up on one elbow, the movement slow, leisurely as if he had all night to do as he pleased. The muscles in his arm flexed with restrained power, the play of light and shadow along his torso stealing my breath. His other hand, now free, trailed over me with deliberate care, tracing invisible lines as if he was mapping constellations only he could see.
Every pass of his fingers was a question.
Every soft sigh from me, an answer.
It amazed me how a man capable of such destruction, who had ended lives with his bare hands, could now wield those same hands with such tenderness. Fingers that had once dealt death now traced life across my skin. Whisper-soft down the sides of my torso, exploring every curve and hollow as though he were branding the memory of me into his soul
Each stroke felt deliberate, reverent.
