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“Ah, ah, cherub,” he says, dragging me back, “you’re not going anywhere. Not until I’m finished with you.”

He won’t release me. He won’t release me, and I’m bucking against him.

I let out a strangled sob. “Des,please.” There’s way too much sensation down there, and it’s building. Building, building,building.

“Come for me.” He’s now just sucking on my clit.

Impossible to think through this.

“Des.” My body is just a bundle of nerves, all of them taut. I can’t get away, and I can’t stand much more of this. I’m right on the edge, and with each stroke of his tongue …

“Come.”

… I begin to fall.

“Oh my god, Des.” The siren’s entered my voice.

I stare blankly at the beautiful ceiling, my vision going unfocused, as my orgasm lashes through me, lasting longer and burning brighter than any others I’ve ever had.

By the time I come down, the Bargainer is kissing my inner thighs, his touch still proprietary. My legs slip off of his shoulders, and he catches them, closing them gently and pulling my dress down.

He gathers me in his arms and moves us to the head of his bed.

I stare at him with astonishment.

“That was …” Incredible. Mind-blowing. Unbelievable.

“A long time in coming,” he finishes for me.

Des strokes my hair back, his eyes filled with such longing. My heart squeezes at the sight of it. Leaning in, he kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips. It’s vulgar and arousing, and my dimming skin brightens all over again.

His fingers trail across my arm.

I stare up at him, trying like an idiot not to think about the fact that Des just went down on me. This beautiful man who’d always been so out of reach took a bead just so that he could give me an orgasm.

The world is utterly backwards—and I never want it to right itself.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“So much, cherub.”

I finger the bronze war bands that circle his upper arm.

“I’ve imagined you in my bed a thousand times,” he continues, his gaze on me.

This moment is surreal to me.

“A thousand times?” I don’t know what to do with the woozy, lightheaded sensation that rolls through me. It’s somewhere between elation and flattery, and hope so sharp it hurts. Once again, I’m scared—of him, of us. Of having everything I ever wanted within my grasp, only for it to slip through my fingers. Because it will slip through my fingers. That’s just the nature of things.

He presses his lips close to my ear. “Do you want to know a truth of mine?”

“Always,” I say, turning my head to better face him.

He takes my hand and presses it against his chest. Beneath my palm I feel his heartbeat racing.

My eyes move from his chest to his face.

“It does that whenever I’m around you,” he says.