We’re not stopping with just kisses. Not tonight.
His breath fans out along my skin, and I arch into him. He pulls away long enough to remove my shirt, then my bra. Tossing the garments aside, he spends several seconds gazing at my exposed torso. The look in his eyes is hungry.
He’s never seen me naked before—and I’ve never seen him naked before, for that matter. The realization is shocking, considering all we’ve done.
Reaching behind his back, Des shrugs his own shirt off, and I marvel at his sculpted pecs, his toned arms, his rock hard stomach. I skim my fingers over each of his abs, for the first time ever feeling like I have a right to touch him. He looks carved from marble, his skin taut over thick ropes of muscle. Not bulky like Eli is, but every bit as chiseled.
Soulmates.
He is mine, and I am his.
I’m almost dizzy with joy. Have I ever been this happy in my entire life?
The Bargainer scoops me up and carries me down the hall and into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us.
He lays me out on his bed, then lowers himself over me, his narrow hips nestled between my thighs. Even just that contact has me moving against him, impatient for more.
But unlike me, Des seems to have limitless patience, his gaze moving to my bare chest. His hand cups my breast, his thumb moving in circles around my nipple until it hardens. He bends down to it, his lips replacing his fingers. His tongue moves over it, and I arch into him.
Jesus, he’s going to make me come before we’re even fully undressed.
My hands move over the muscles of his back, my fingers clutching him close.
His mouth trails down my stomach, his hands sliding down either side of me. The Bargainer glances at me through his lashes when he hits the waistband of my jeans.
“Take them off,” I breathe.
He doesn’t do anything for a second, and I get the impression he’s savoring this moment. Then he moves back up and kisses me. While he does this, I feel the brush of his magic. A moment later, my pants unzip themselves and slide off.
I can’t help it, I break off the kiss to laugh.
The man himself grins down at me, but the humor in his expression fades into something far more wicked.
His face is inches from mine, his hair hanging down around his face.
“My mate,” I say wondrously.
“Your mate,” he repeats.
Even this is almost too much. My heart and my body can’t take so many good sensations all at once. I feel like I’m going to come apart, and when I finally put myself back together again, I won’t be the same Callie I once was.
I feel the breath of his magic again, and this time it’s his pants that slide off. I only have a couple seconds to appreciate his black boxer briefs before they drag themselves off as well.
I’ve imagined this so many times, yet my mind has never done him justice. Every curve of muscle that wraps around his thighs, the defined V that points to his very large cock, the way his waist tapers in and fluidly transitions to his narrow hips and sculpted ass—it’s better than anything my mind could conjure.
He lets me drink him in for a moment, and then he drapes himself back over me, his erection pressed firmly against my leg.
I’m glowing as brightly as I ever do. Normally I have to withhold some of my powers when I make love, otherwise my glamour can turn innocent words into commands that control my partner—and I like my sex consensual, thanks.
But with the Bargainer, I don’t have to worry about that; he can’t fall under my spell the way other men can. The sensation of being myself fully and completely—something I’ve never felt with anyone else—is liberating.
His hand touches my lacy panties. “These have to go.” The second the words are spoken, I feel an invisible hand tugging them off of me.
There’s no longer anything funny about the magic. Not when the Bargainer—Desmond—is staring at me with a promise in his eyes.
He kisses my lips, softly, gently, then positions himself. I can feel him at my entrance.
He pulls away from my lips, his eyes moving over my face. Again, I get the impression he’s memorizing the moment. As he watches, he pushes into me.
My pelvis rises to meet his, and inch by inch, he slides inside me. My lips part in silence surprise, our eyes locked together. All those years of waiting, of hoping, of despairing, it all led to this moment.
Perfection.
A shiver racks his body when he’s fully seated in me. “Want to stay here … forever.”
My throat works as my hands move over his shoulders, then slip around his back. I want him to stay right here too, the two of us wrapped up in each other.
He slides almost all the way out before thrusting into me hard. I moan at the sensation, the sound unearthly.
The smile he flashes me is pure sin. “I like making my sweet siren moan.”
He moves in and out of me, his strokes powerful.
God, he’s staggering to look at. His brows are stitched together, his lips parted, and with each thrust his abs flex. The sight of him doing this to me is itself nearly enough to get me off.
He lowers himself, his slick chest meeting mine, and his hands comb the hair away from my face.
He pulls me even closer, his cheeks brushing mine. His pace slow and tender.
Making love. That’s what this is. He’s being gentle, romancing me even after he’s received my love and found himself between my legs.
This is how it might always be.
Nights like this that stretch on and on into the future. My heart hurts at the possibility. True love—it always seemed just beyond my reach. I only ever believed in it because I had acutely felt its absence all those years we spent apart.
His breath fans out along my skin, and I arch into him. He pulls away long enough to remove my shirt, then my bra. Tossing the garments aside, he spends several seconds gazing at my exposed torso. The look in his eyes is hungry.
He’s never seen me naked before—and I’ve never seen him naked before, for that matter. The realization is shocking, considering all we’ve done.
Reaching behind his back, Des shrugs his own shirt off, and I marvel at his sculpted pecs, his toned arms, his rock hard stomach. I skim my fingers over each of his abs, for the first time ever feeling like I have a right to touch him. He looks carved from marble, his skin taut over thick ropes of muscle. Not bulky like Eli is, but every bit as chiseled.
Soulmates.
He is mine, and I am his.
I’m almost dizzy with joy. Have I ever been this happy in my entire life?
The Bargainer scoops me up and carries me down the hall and into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us.
He lays me out on his bed, then lowers himself over me, his narrow hips nestled between my thighs. Even just that contact has me moving against him, impatient for more.
But unlike me, Des seems to have limitless patience, his gaze moving to my bare chest. His hand cups my breast, his thumb moving in circles around my nipple until it hardens. He bends down to it, his lips replacing his fingers. His tongue moves over it, and I arch into him.
Jesus, he’s going to make me come before we’re even fully undressed.
My hands move over the muscles of his back, my fingers clutching him close.
His mouth trails down my stomach, his hands sliding down either side of me. The Bargainer glances at me through his lashes when he hits the waistband of my jeans.
“Take them off,” I breathe.
He doesn’t do anything for a second, and I get the impression he’s savoring this moment. Then he moves back up and kisses me. While he does this, I feel the brush of his magic. A moment later, my pants unzip themselves and slide off.
I can’t help it, I break off the kiss to laugh.
The man himself grins down at me, but the humor in his expression fades into something far more wicked.
His face is inches from mine, his hair hanging down around his face.
“My mate,” I say wondrously.
“Your mate,” he repeats.
Even this is almost too much. My heart and my body can’t take so many good sensations all at once. I feel like I’m going to come apart, and when I finally put myself back together again, I won’t be the same Callie I once was.
I feel the breath of his magic again, and this time it’s his pants that slide off. I only have a couple seconds to appreciate his black boxer briefs before they drag themselves off as well.
I’ve imagined this so many times, yet my mind has never done him justice. Every curve of muscle that wraps around his thighs, the defined V that points to his very large cock, the way his waist tapers in and fluidly transitions to his narrow hips and sculpted ass—it’s better than anything my mind could conjure.
He lets me drink him in for a moment, and then he drapes himself back over me, his erection pressed firmly against my leg.
I’m glowing as brightly as I ever do. Normally I have to withhold some of my powers when I make love, otherwise my glamour can turn innocent words into commands that control my partner—and I like my sex consensual, thanks.
But with the Bargainer, I don’t have to worry about that; he can’t fall under my spell the way other men can. The sensation of being myself fully and completely—something I’ve never felt with anyone else—is liberating.
His hand touches my lacy panties. “These have to go.” The second the words are spoken, I feel an invisible hand tugging them off of me.
There’s no longer anything funny about the magic. Not when the Bargainer—Desmond—is staring at me with a promise in his eyes.
He kisses my lips, softly, gently, then positions himself. I can feel him at my entrance.
He pulls away from my lips, his eyes moving over my face. Again, I get the impression he’s memorizing the moment. As he watches, he pushes into me.
My pelvis rises to meet his, and inch by inch, he slides inside me. My lips part in silence surprise, our eyes locked together. All those years of waiting, of hoping, of despairing, it all led to this moment.
Perfection.
A shiver racks his body when he’s fully seated in me. “Want to stay here … forever.”
My throat works as my hands move over his shoulders, then slip around his back. I want him to stay right here too, the two of us wrapped up in each other.
He slides almost all the way out before thrusting into me hard. I moan at the sensation, the sound unearthly.
The smile he flashes me is pure sin. “I like making my sweet siren moan.”
He moves in and out of me, his strokes powerful.
God, he’s staggering to look at. His brows are stitched together, his lips parted, and with each thrust his abs flex. The sight of him doing this to me is itself nearly enough to get me off.
He lowers himself, his slick chest meeting mine, and his hands comb the hair away from my face.
He pulls me even closer, his cheeks brushing mine. His pace slow and tender.
Making love. That’s what this is. He’s being gentle, romancing me even after he’s received my love and found himself between my legs.
This is how it might always be.
Nights like this that stretch on and on into the future. My heart hurts at the possibility. True love—it always seemed just beyond my reach. I only ever believed in it because I had acutely felt its absence all those years we spent apart.
