Page 257 of The Mercy of Dawn

Cyril’s eyes softened, and Mikael was certain he grinned like an idiot when a smile tugged at her own lips.

“Come here,” she said as she cupped his face and guided his forehead to rest against hers. Quietly, she added, “I love you too.”

That felt as good as if she screamed it from the fucking rooftop.

Cyril kissed him again, and Mikael let it consume him.

The warmth that licked out in every direction from his core was unlike anything he’d ever felt before. A smoldering spark of need ignited within him, and Mikael felt desperate to be closer to her. Her fingers carded through his hair, nails raking across his scalp, and a groan slipped out from somewhere deep in his chest.

Mikael wasn’t sure if it was possible to want someone more than he wanted her at that very moment.

His body ached for every inch of contact it could get and, in the most primal way, he just wanted to be inside of her. He wanted to feel that slick, snug heat that drove him fucking mad.

One pointed graze of his hand up the soft, irresistibly warm flesh of her inner thigh, and Cyril yielded to his whims entirely.

Mikael settled between legs that parted so fucking easily for him and rocked himself selfishly against her core. The needy whine she uttered against his lips had an ache of want running right through to his cock.

He groaned and gripped her thigh, dragging her impossibly close.

Her wince was sobering.

“Cyr…” Mikael eased back, looking down at her.

And what a mistake that was.

Just the sight of her with that silky burgundy slip gathered up around her waist and her knees splayed for him had Mikael fighting to hold on to any rational thoughts.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” she said, a breathy and desperate edge to her voice. But Mikael was not convinced.

“Are you sure this is a good idea…?”

“Positive.” Cyril eased a hand between them and palmed at his aching length. “And you don’t get to tell me you love me and just kiss me goodnight like it was fucking nothing.”

Mikael wanted to laugh, tease her even about just how hot and bothered his declaration made her, but he could only groan instead. Just a simple and insistent touch and she had dangerous heat pooling at the base of his spine. He was wound up so fucking tight it almost spelled disaster.

Mikael set his hand over hers, stilling her movements.

Sheepishly, he said, “I won’t last if you keep that up, wrath.”

Amusement flickered in her eyes.

“I’m not sure what you’re waiting for then,” she said, her voice low and rough in a way that did precisely nothing to help. She completely disregarded his hand too, and started tugging the laces of his pants. A few deft movements, and she had her hand wrapped around him.

That first languid stroke had him biting back a string of curses.

He slipped his hand back up the inside of Cyril’s thigh and tugged aside the scrap of black, lace-trimmed fabric she liked to call underwear, bearing the slick and molten heat waiting for him. He eased a finger into her, followed quickly by a second, and rocked them slowly as she arched into his touch.

“Mika…” Cyril said softly—submissively, almost. She tipped her head back and Mikael was on the verge of losing it completely.

He pumped his fingers faster as he pressed his lips to the expanse of throat she bared to him, working a path away from where he was desperate to mark her. When he met that soft, delicate flesh at the base of her jaw, he rumbled, “Are you ready for me, wrath?”

Her whine and nod were all he needed to replace his fingers with his cock and let her touch guide him home. Three slow, languid thrusts and a full-bodied groan had his hips flush with hers.

He didn’t have words for the sated thrum that trickled through every fiber of his being. And Mikael knew there was never a time where being buried in her body didn’t bring him to some blissful plane of existence.

But this was something else entirely.

And he was still at a loss for words when she tangled one hand in his hair and left the other between their bodies, working herself to release.