Without a word, I move, instinct overriding hesitation. I swing a leg over his lap, straddling him in one fluid motion. His eyes widen, and for a split second, I think I’ve surprised him. But he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hands hover at my sides, hesitant, almost reverent.
“Touch me,” I say, my voice shaking with a mix of nerves and raw need.
He doesn’t hesitate this time. His hands settle on my waist, large and warm, and then they move up my back, trailing heat wherever they go. A soft, involuntary moan escapes me, and I press closer, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath me.
His hair shifts, the strands brushing against my arms like they’re alive and responding to me. When they rest against myskin, it’s like a circuit is completed, and I inhale sharply, the connection startling in its intimacy. The scent of him fills my lungs—earthy, warm, uniquely him—and it’s like breathing for the first time.
“Do your people…?” I trail off, embarrassment creeping up my neck as I stumble over the words. “Do you use your mouths to…?”
He tilts his head slightly, his expression curious but patient. “To make love?” he finishes for me, his voice soft.
“Yes.” I exhale sharply, trying to ground myself. “That. But also this.” I press my fingers to his mouth, then mine. “Kiss.”
Understanding dawns in his gaze, followed by something almost shy. “Yes,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But only with those who belong to our soul.”
His words hit me like a punch to the chest. Horror and guilt slam into me, and I start to pull back, ashamed of how recklessly I’ve been throwing myself at him. But before I can retreat, his hands tighten on me, keeping me in place.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” Solan says softly, his deep voice vibrating through me. His gaze is locked on mine, fierce but vulnerable, and it’s like he’s offering me every part of himself in that single moment.
My breath hitches, my pulse racing under his hand. I can’t think, can’t hesitate. The words tear through my chest, their impact cracking something open inside me. I surge forwards and slam my mouth against his, my fingers gripping his jaw, his neck, desperate to anchor myself to him.
His lips are soft, impossibly warm, and their heat spreads through me like wildfire. The first touch is almost too much—a shock to my system, a jolt that leaves me gasping against him. But he doesn’t pull back. His hands tighten on my waist, dragging me closer, and suddenly it’s not enough. I press harder, threading my fingers into his hair, the silken strands wrappingaround my hands and my forearms as though holding me in place.
His mouth moves against mine, hesitant at first, as though testing uncharted territory. But the hesitation doesn’t last. He learns fast—too fast. His lips part, and his forked tongue brushes mine, tentative and careful, and I swear I shatter. A broken sound escapes me, part moan, part whimper, and the way he responds—growling low in his throat as he pulls me impossibly closer—makes my head spin.
The kiss is consuming, every part of him overwhelming my senses. His heat seeps into me, his scent filling my lungs with every breath. It’s grounding and dizzying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and feeling both the fear of falling and the thrill of flight.
The connection between us is electric, his energy pulsing over my skin in waves that leave me trembling. It feels like he’s everywhere—his hands roaming my back, his hair curling around my arms, his mouth devouring mine with a hunger that mirrors my own. I press my fingers into his shoulders, hard muscle shifting under my touch, and the strength of him only pulls me deeper into the moment.
I’ve never been kissed like this before—never felt so completely undone by the press of someone’s lips. It’s not just a kiss; it’s an unspoken promise, a claiming, a merging of something far deeper than just physical desire. I feel exposed, laid bare, and yet somehow, I don’t care.
Solan pulls back, just enough to let me catch my breath. His forehead rests against mine, his golden eyes searching, his chest heaving as though the kiss left him as wrecked as it left me.
“I don’t think I can stop,” he admits, his voice low and rough, his gaze flicking to my lips as though already drawn back to them.
“Don’t,” I whisper, my own voice trembling, my lips brushing his as I speak. “Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t need further encouragement. He crashes his mouth back onto mine, and this time, there’s no hesitation. He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life, and I lose myself in him, every rational thought drowned out by the sheer intensity of him.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless, my body trembling, my head spinning. I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. All I can do is stare at him, still clutching his hair, my chest rising and falling as I try to process what just happened.
His lips are swollen, his hair dishevelled, and his gaze is fixed on me with a single-mindedness that makes my heart stutter.
“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
His smile is small and genuine, and the sight of it sends a fresh wave of heat through me. “Neither did I,” he admits.
For a moment, the weight of the world fades, and there’s only him—only us. And for the first time in what feels like forever, I feel something close to peace.
“Now you rest.”
“Huh?” Rest? Now? After I almost came in my pants from simply kissing? But fuck if there is anything “simple” about what just happened between us.
“Yes, my bonded needs to sleep.”
Bonded. The words from his earlier explanation about soul mates slam into me. And just a few moments ago, he mentioned his soul. I freeze on top of him, eyes widening at the absurdity, at the fucking rightness of his words and everything happening between us.
How is this even possible?
