I lost myself in the rhythm of his touch — the way his hands explored my skin with quiet desperation, as if trying to morize the curve of my soul.
We moved together, a dance of tension and surrender, where every sigh, every gasp, every stolen breath drew us further into sothing we couldn’t na — but we both knew we needed.
The fire’s glow shimred in his eyes as he looked down at , our foreheads brushing, our hearts beating like twin drums of thunder.
"Iraya . . . ," he whispered, his voice shaking, "tell this isn’t a dream."
I answered him not with words, but with the kind of kiss that said everything I couldn’t.
Because in that mont, nothing mattered but the way we ca together — not as enemies, not as reluctant companions — but as two people who finally stopped running and t sowhere in the middle of longing.
I felt his cock stretch wide - tear at my tender flesh like it was nothing but air.
My nails dug into his back as he drove himself deeper . . . harder . . .
"Ah . . . yes . . . ," I gasped against his ear - my voice barely audible over the din of our passion.
"You feel so good . . . ," he murmured near my ear, biting my lobe.
And then, suddenly . . . he stopped.
Frozen still for an eternal mont, he stared down at with eyes that burned like embers from so dark inferno within him.
"What’s wrong?" I whispered against his ear - confusion writ large on my face. "Why did you stop?"
His gaze never left mine as he whispered back, "Just admiring the view . . ." he grinned, "and making sure that I’m not dreaming."
I glared at him. "If you don’t fuck right now, I’ll bite you."
Lyander laughed. "Tempting, but you can bite as I fuck you at the sa ti." And with that, his cock plunged forward once more - burying itself deep within like a spear.
The world around us went dark and silent - except for the sound of our ragged breathing.
This ti, it wasn’t just sex.
It was surrender.
It was complete and utter submission to the primal urges that drove us both so rcilessly on.
As I felt him release inside . . . our bodies collapsed onto each other in exhaustion . . . like two wounded creatures who had finally found solace in their mutual destruction.
The night stretched endlessly around us, draped in the hush of snowfall and the golden flicker of firelight.
Lyander kissed like he had waited a lifeti, like every second was sothing sacred he refused to waste.
His touch was everywhere—reverent, hungry, as though he needed to morize again and again.
And I let him. I let myself fall into him, drown in him, feel everything I had spent so long trying to shut out.
He whispered my na like a prayer, again and again. Like it grounded him. Like it unraveled him.
When I thought he would stop—when our bodies slowed, and breath mingled in quiet surrender—he kissed once more, slow and deep. And just like that, the fire between us ignited all over again.
Ti didn’t exist. Only him. Only us.
Lyander held as if letting go wasn’t an option. As if the only way to make sense of anything was to co closer, to keep holding, to keep feeling.
====
The next morning, I woke in my bed—alone, blankets tucked around like soone had done it with care. I didn’t rember leaving the fireplace. I didn’t rember walking back to my room.
All I rembered was the kiss and the sex last night.
My face heated up. How could I let myself be lost in . . . in my stupid fucking emotions and libido?
I buried my face in my hands, breath catching sowhere between panic and disbelief.
This couldn’t be happening.
Not like this. Not after everything.
What now?
How was I supposed to face Lyander after last night?
After all that heat, all that unspoken longing finally breaking through like a dam that couldn’t hold any longer?
My skin still rembered the way he touched —like I was sothing precious and dangerous all at once.
What did it even an?
Were we . . . sothing now? Or was it just a mont? A storm that passed through the both of us and would be forgotten with the sunrise?
My heart thundered as the questions spiraled. What am I to him now? What is he to ?
And worse—what if he regretted it? What if I had just been a ga to him, another whim?
Once he got what he wanted, I was disposable now.
I stood there in the silence of the room, my pulse echoing louder than the wind outside. The fire from the hearth had died down to embers, but everything inside still burned.
I wasn’t ready to see him. Not with my thoughts this tangled.
But I would have to. Eventually.
Because no matter what happened, there was no going back to how things were.
I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a ss. Everything between us had changed—and yet, nothing was defined.
It was like standing on the edge of a frozen lake, unsure if the ice would hold if I took the next step.
Still, I didn’t regret it.
I got up, dressed in layers, and headed downstairs. The manor was quiet except for the clinking of cutlery and soft jazz coming from the dining room.
Lyander sat at the head of the long wooden table, drinking coffee and reading sothing on paper—actual paper. No screens. No phone.
"Morning," he said, glancing up. His voice was casual, but I saw the flicker in his eyes—the mory of what happened between us.
"Morning," I said, slowly sitting across from him. "Are you always this civilized after having sex with a girl you don’t have any relationships with?"
He chuckled. "Only when the woman I made love looked like she wanted to flee through the window after."
"I didn’t," I lied.
His grin widened. "Sure."
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