I’m sorry.
The apology echoed loudly in my head, but my mouth remained dry and quiet. Speech wasn’t something of ease anymore—even though I was capable. It wasn’t instinct to part my lips and verbalise. It would take time. Time to remember how to speak without fear. But time was a magical thing, and I finally trusted its power to fix what was wrong.
Elder suddenly turned me around, pressing my back against the barrier. The sunset was forgotten the moment I stared into his tortured ebony eyes.
I sucked in a breath at how quickly he’d manhandled me but didn’t try to get free. His body blocked me as his hands locked around the rail at my back.
His gaze latched onto my mouth. His breathing quickened. “I know I shouldn’t, but I desperately want to kiss you again.”
I froze as he made eye contact, his lips glistening from his tongue.
My tummy tangled with vines at the thought of kissing him. Was kissing so soon after what had happened the right thing to do?
Shouldn’t we talk first? Discuss what’d happened and decide if lust had a place once words had done their job?
You spent two years silent. Why do you think words can solve anything when you haven’t wanted them up till now?
My previous habits tried to trample on my new goals. Silence might’ve been my friend, but it might become my enemy now.
I breathed harder, trying to decide how to shatter the glass ceiling I’d placed upon myself and be normal. To look at Elder as a man and not fear him for being one. To speak with authority while I drowned in confusion.
Elder didn’t press into me or move away. The black desperation on his face matched the growing black hole inside me, sucking all reason, worry, and doubt away.
Actions spoke louder than words. The damage between us from his actions needed to be cancelled out by the same motion.
Words would come later.
Taking a deep breath, I stood on my tiptoes. My hands soared to his shoulders. I licked my lips, deliberately positioning myself for a kiss. To take charge and willingly seek sexual connection instead of running from it.
He froze, his eyes dancing over my face.
With nerves turning into fireflies in my belly, I slowly arched to kiss him.
He didn’t bow to meet me. He stood tall, his chest rising and falling, his scent of incense strong and heady. He gave me the gift of decision all while keeping himself bound and snarling.
His lips were so close. My healed tongue twinged slightly. I withdrew to test him and myself. To see if he would stand by and let me decide, after all.
A breathless grunt escaped him as if I’d punched him in the chest not just swayed back a fraction. But he didn’t press or demand. He stayed the perfect statue; a gentleman crushed beneath desire.
Desire for me.
Desire I finally recognised was different to the desire Alrik had. Evil didn’t taint Elder’s desire. It was pure and full of emotional connection as well as physical. Emotions we hadn’t permitted but had morphed from nothing regardless.
I swooped up and pressed my mouth to his.
His grunt turned into a ragged groan.
His lips were gentle and soft, unparted and waiting for instruction. Unlike before when he’d given me no choice, this time there was no contact apart from our lips.
We both understood who was in charge, and by giving me control, it didn’t make him submissive. If anything, it made him more dominant. More powerful for giving me jurisdiction over him.
Our lips pressed together innocently. But my God, they connected us so deeply.
I opened slightly, inviting.
He stiffened. His breath fluttering on my cheek from his rapid exhale.
I licked him with the tip of my tongue. The tongue he’d healed and killed for.
The railing shuddered behind me where he clutched it tight, taking his pent-up aggression out on his yacht rather than me.
The simmering passion hidden just barely beneath his self-control let me share the kiss, direct the kiss. Placing my hand over his heart, I tilted my head and opened to him.
He understood my permission.
He took utmost advantage.
His lips pressed harder, his tongue licking into my mouth.
Sensuality had nothing on him. Elder was the dictionary definition of sensual from the way his muscles clenched in need, his nostrils flared in want, and his lust wound tightly in constraint.
He kissed me hard and deep but with respect and affection, too. His taste and spicy flavour sent my head swimming as choppy as the ocean from our propellers.
A drench of attraction and nerves activated every sense until I sparkled and crackled inside.
Whatever previous kisses he’d bestowed were no longer relevant. Whatever touch or activity we’d partaken in didn’t matter.
This kiss was everything.
It was truth.
It was honesty.
It was terrifying.
He kissed me with nothing barred. He dropped a disguise, letting me taste what he’d never say.