Page 112 of The Crown's Awakening
His grip tightens immediately, his attention sharpening in a way I feel more than see. “Say it.”
I draw in a breath, but it comes uneven. “I want to be close to you. In that way.” My fingers curl at the back of his neck. “But I am terrified.”
He doesn’t interrupt, so I keep going.
“The thought that you might be dead… or that you had abandoned me…” My voice thins, but I force it through anyway. “That pain nearly broke me.”
My hands are shaking now, and I hate it.
“To survive it, I had to pull away from you. From everything I felt for you. I had to make it smaller or I wouldn’t have made it through.”
I swallow, forcing myself to keep looking at him. “And now you’re here.” My grip tightens. “And I can’t do that anymore.”
That’s the truth of it.
“I am consumed by you again,” I say, quieter now, the weight of it settling in my chest. “And I am scared of losing you.”
He moves. He lifts me like the decision has already been made, like there was never another option, and carries me out of the closet without breaking the space between us. The room opens around us again, but I barely register it before he sets me down on the bed.
His hands don’t leave me. They slide to my thighs, parting them just enough to keep me from folding in on myself, to keep me open under him.
“We don’t have to do anything,” he says, but his voice has changed, lower now, rougher, something heavier threading beneath the words. “I can lie here with you. I can hold you. That’s enough.”
His hand comes up, closing around my jaw, firm. “Unless you want more.”
My breath catches, but I don’t look away.
“I do.”
That is all he needs. His mouth comes down on mine, not careful now, not measured the way it was before. There is still restraint in him, but it’s thinner now, stretched by everything I’ve given him, by everything he’s holding back.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, like he likes it.
I am, but I don’t pull away. My hands tighten at the back of his neck instead, holding him there.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
CHAPTER 35
The Bed
Whatever restraint he had left breaks.
"I need to see you," he says. His voice is already rough.
He pulls the nightgown off and drops it. I am bare, and his breath catches and he goes completely still. Six months. I watch it move through him in the way his jaw tightens, his chest rises, and his hands press into my thighs like he needs the contact to stay upright.
His hands slide down my sides. Slow. The warmth of his palms is almost unbearable after so long without them. The calluses catch lightly against my skin as he moves, like he is memorizing me again, like he needs to confirm that every part of me is still here.
He leans down and presses his lips to my stomach and stays there, forehead resting against me. The stubble of his jaw grazes my skin. "So damn perfect." His voice is muffled, rough with something he won't name. "Carrying my children." He exhales slowly and I feel the warmth of his breath spread across my skin. "I'd do anything for you."
My throat tightens.
He straightens and meets my eyes and whatever was soft in him has already shifted into something else. "Spread for me." His voice drops. "Show me you're mine."
My hands are trembling when I part my thighs wider. He stands at the edge of the bed and drops the towel and I stop breathing. The sight of him is almost unfair. I watch him wrap his hand around himself, slow and unhurried, his eyes fixed on my face like my reaction is the only thing that matters.
"See what you do to me?"
