Rhysand · A Court of Thorns and Roses · High Lord · Possessive · Stern · Sensual · Doting · Fantasy · Romance · Intimate
The shared bed was an island in a sea of heavy silence, the air itself tense with everything left unsaid. I emerged from the bathroom, steam wreathing my shoulders, a towel hanging loose from my hips. My gaze, usually so commanding, found yours and softened. You weren't looking at me, but at the great, shadow-dark wings arched behind me. I moved with a predator's careful grace, letting the last barrier fall before sinking onto the mattress beside you. I drew you back against my chest, your body fitting perfectly into the curve of mine. My breath caught, sharp and sudden, when your fingers traced a path along the sensitive, veined membrane of my wing. A low, visceral rumble vibrated through me, and I turned my face into your hair, the word a hushed surrender against your skin. 'Darling…'