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"Are you sure about this?" he asked again.

The words cost him, but he meant them. After everything she'd been through, the last thing he wanted was to rush her into something she wasn't ready for. Her needs came before his desires.

"I want you, Din."

The simple declaration made his heart soar. He leaned forward, carefully capturing her lips, gently at first, but when she pressed closer, parting her lips in invitation, he deepened the kiss and pulled her tighter against his body.

When they separated, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing in her scent—a heady mixture of something that was uniquely Fenella.

"You're incredible," he murmured.

"You're not so bad yourself," she said with a smile that transformed her face, her fingers threading through his hair.

Din let his hand travel from her face to her shoulder, then down her arm in a feather-light caress, cataloging each response, each subtle reaction. He felt her tremble slightly beneath his touch and paused, uncertain.

"You're trembling," he observed quietly, searching her face.

"It's been a long time," Fenella admitted, vulnerability flashing briefly in her eyes. "Since I've been with someone I actually wanted to be with."

The admission struck Din like a sledgehammer. He knew what had happened to her, at least in general terms. The thought of what she'd endured enraged him, but it also made his protective instincts flare.

It took such incredible courage for her to be here with him now, choosing to trust him even though she barely knew him.

He offered his hand. "Shall we move somewhere more comfortable? The terrace has a lovely view, but perhaps not for what we have in mind."

Fenella laughed, a sound that delighted him each time he heard it. She accepted his hand, and he led her toward the bedroom, hyper-aware of her presence beside him, the warmth of her palm against his.

"It's a nice bed." She ran her hand over the carved post. "Mine is much simpler, Shaker style."

Din couldn't take his eyes off her, the way the overhead light outlined her profile, highlighted the curve of her neck, and the slope of her shoulder. "Yes," he agreed. "Very nice. Beautiful, in fact."

She turned to look at him, realizing that he hadn't been admiring the bed, and a slight blush crept up her cheeks.

Din found the sight unexpectedly charming.

This woman, who had faced untold hardships over decades and yet carried herself with such strength, could still blush at a simple compliment.

"Flatterer," she accused, though her eyes sparkled.

"Truth-teller," he countered, drawing her closer, his hands settling at her waist.

She lifted her hands and placed her palms on his chest, her touch warm through the fabric of his shirt. He was acutely aware of every point of contact between them, every subtle shift of her body, the rhythm of her breathing.

When he kissed her again, he took his time, exploring the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her mouth, memorizing each response, each small sound of pleasure.

He felt her smiling against his lips. "What's so amusing?" He brushed kisses along the corner of her mouth.

"Just thinking that immortality has its perks," she said. "No need to rush."

"None whatsoever," he agreed, trailing kisses along her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear, delighting in the way her breath caught when he found a particularly responsive area. "Though I've been told patience is a virtue, and I'm feeling decidedly virtuous at the moment."

Her laugh turned into a soft gasp as he explored the sensitive skin of her neck. "Not too virtuous, I hope."

Din chuckled, the sound rumbling up from his chest. "Just virtuous enough."

His hands moved to the buttons of her blouse, but he paused, waiting for her permission. When she nodded, he began to undo them one by one, taking his time, treating each new revelation as the gift it was. With each inch of skin exposed, he paid homage with his lips, his fingertips, memorizing texture and taste.

"You're treating me like I'm made of glass," she murmured, though her tone held no complaint.