“We can move the crowns,” I pleaded when he tugged me toward the bedroom. Lorcan’s grin was pure wickedness.
“Ten steps, Princess. You can make it.”
I’m not sure, honestly.
We did, in a tangle of kisses and laughter, with Lorcan losing the rest of his clothes along the way. We landed on the bed. I scrambled back, urging him along until he’s on top of me, propped on his elbows. He takes my face between his hands.
“Zosia, I just want to say—”
I groan. “Lorcan. I don’t need speeches. I need you to fuck me. Immediately.”
He drops his forehead to mine, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “I love you.”
“Great. Same. Let’s have sex.”
He kisses my forehead. Then, finally, he pushed back, peeled down the last scrap of clothing and settled himself between my thighs. I tilted my hips up, seeking. My mouth fell open in a silent cry at the intrusion. In and in. Deeper than I thought possible. So right—despite my internal organs being rearranged—and so, so good.
“Okay?” he gasps against my temple. A tremor wracks his body.
“Yes.”
I know this isn’t all there is to it, but I wasn’t sure what to do next. I lay beneath him, taking his weight, stroking him from neck to firm, tight buttocks, squeezing gently. Lorcan muttered an incoherent curse against my temple. A roll of muscle from neck to thighs as he withdrew. I whimpered in protest.
He comes in again, slow and relentless. I shifted my legs wider. Again. Taking him in from everywhere. His eyes are bright and slitted beneath dark lashes. It’s too much, and not enough. My vision shuttered. He retreated again, and I whined in complaint, trying to pull him back—and then it clicked. On the next stroke, I moved with him. Lorcan grunted softly and pulled my leg higher on his waist.
Pressure builds with each slick slide. This is amazing. I can’t believe he made me go without this for so long. It’s the opposite of alone, a connection so intense it electrifies every nerve in my body. Lighting me up from the inside.
I caught another glimpse of him as we moved. Sweat sheened his skin, with a droplet collected at his temple. I licked and tasted salt. He shudders. His hips jerked hard, and I gasped. I can make him react, too.
He redoubled his efforts. Slow and gentle turned frantic and needy, until I swear he swelled even larger inside me. Pushing me to my very limits. I screwed my eyes closed, lost the rhythm, and stiffened, exhaling a ragged cry. Lorcan made a sound—half-curse, half groan, a fragment of my name—driving hard into me.
This was an entirely new feeling. My abdomen pulsed in waves that rolled up through my stomach, down my thighs, crushing the air out of my lungs. It went on, and on, for what felt like forever, until it began to fade and it wasn’t nearly long enough. I collapsed, limp, against the pillow.
I skimmed my thumb along Lorcan’s cheek and felt the tear trickle down into my palm. His arms tightened around me. I tangled my fingers in his hair as he slumped, pressing me into the covers with all his weight. I’m too spent to do more than hold him to me and sink into this languorous sensation of complete togetherness, wondering how I ever lived without it.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
Hours later, after more sex and a long sleep in one another’s arms, we awoke ravenous for something other than connection. Neither of us had eaten since the early morning. Lorcan sent me off to bathe while he called for a tray from the kitchens and took it out onto the balcony, moving the chairs to observe the revelry in the town below. We never opened the ceremony.
Make your people happy.
In choosing happiness for ourselves, we did.
I went to stand at the stone railing with Lorcan pressed behind me, arms around my waist.
“They started the party without us,” I said, pretending to pout.
“As long as everyone has fun.” He kissed my head. “I have.” I squeezed his hand. My body aches sweetly in places I didn’t know existed. His gaze scans the bright fires and lamp lights. “I had no idea what I was asking for all those years ago.”
“Well, you were only ten.”
“You know about that?” He shook his head. “I remember—vividly—how small you were next to your mother. You kept turning to wave and smile at everyone. You were pure sunlight. I couldn’t stop staring. The queen kept trying to get you to sit still, but you—”
“Wouldn’t,” I finished for him. I was a normal, wiggly little girl.
“You remember?” Lorcan’s skepticism is warranted. I hardly ever talk about my childhood. The good parts were too painful to dwell upon. So much of what came after my mother’s death was misery. My father tried. There was love, but there wasn’t a lot of warmth between us.
“Seeing you that day? Yes. I didn’t think you did. There was a boy in the crowd with bright blue eyes. I remember being fascinated by him as we drove by. My mother was so annoyed when I got onto the seat on my knees, facing backward, to wave at you.”
