Page 33

I want him to claim me like he did in the throne room, announcing my place in his life to everyone, marking me out as his alone. The thought doesn’t just send thrills through me, it makes me less afraid. As long as he knows he is mine and I am his, then it doesn’t matter what he does or doesn’t remember. Even Interra can’t take that away.

He makes a noise of approval, lifting me up and spinning me round to lay me out on the bed. He climbs on top of me, pushing my skirts up so I can feel the press of his cock through the thin fabric of my underwear. I gasp, every touch a balm on my scorched soul. And yet…

Part of me wants him so badly—wants to feel him inside of me, taking me completely, but there’s another voice nagging at the back of my mind that this isn’t the time. Not yet. I feel safe with him, ready for more, but not for everything. We can’t have everything, can we, when Ruskin still can’t remember the first time we met, or made love, or said I love you? It’s not so much the memories themselves, but what they mean. I love Ruskin, but while he knows he cares about me, and can feel that I belong to him, can he say the same? That’s the line that’s still there, beyond the undeniable trust I have in him and our bond, and I know I can’t bring myself to cross it tonight. I bite my lip, wondering if I spoke too soon with my invitation.

“Rus…” I say, as his hands roam along my sides, slipping between the fastenings of my dress. He stops when I say his name, his eyes burning into mine. In that moment, with his hands circling my hips, all I want in the world is to believe he still loves me, that we can join together here, our feelings fully equal. So it’s painful to say the next few words.

“Rus, I don’t know if I’m ready for everything,” I say, emphasizing the last part, hoping he’ll understand what I’m saying.

Without a word, he leans down to kiss me again. It’s a long, slow thing that makes me glad I’m already lying down, because my head’s spinning by the time he’s done. My body takes over for my brain, setting off sparks behind my eyes as his lips undo me. When he pulls away, my dazed expression must be written all over my face, because he gives a quiet chuckle.

“Don’t worry, Eleanor. I don’t need to take you like that to prove you’re mine.” My blood heats as he stares down into my eyes, that powerful fire within them held under tight control. “Although some day soon you will ask me to, and I will fuck you so well that you’ll be the one forgetting your own name.”

My whole body burns at the thought.

“But even without that, let’s make one thing clear…” He claims my lips in a kiss rougher than the last, then brushes the swollen skin tenderly with his thumb. “These are mine.”

He drops his head to my neck, licking a line along my collarbone, making me gasp.

“And this.”

Somehow his hands have been busy undoing the corset of my dress and he pushes the fabric open now, like unwrapping a present. His large hands cover my breasts.

“And these.” I let out a mewling noise, writhing beneath him.

“Yes, yours,” I gasp, as he swirls a tongue over my left nipple. I arch my back, so he takes me more fully in his mouth. Of course, he’s right. Even without his memories I couldn’t be anyone else’s. My body is his, utterly, and I let my pleasure mount as I give in to the idea. Submitting entirely to his touch. His claim.

His hand dips beneath the fabric of the dress’s bodice, where he traces my stomach, stroking a circle around my navel. “This too,” he says, sounding delighted at the uncontrollable noises I’m making.

“What else?” I say, spreading my legs so that he’s under no illusions as to where I want him to go next. It’s unexpectedly healing, having him explore my body like this. He’s relearning its dips and curves, but for me it’s a homecoming, my body welcoming the return of him.

He positions himself over the apex of my thighs, licking a long line upwards over the already wet fabric of my underwear. The warm pressure of his tongue scraping over my clit sends me into a frenzy.

“This. This is mine, Eleanor.”

“Please,” I say, squirming for him to touch me more.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“It’s yours. All of it. Please.” I don’t care that I’m begging. Why hide how much I’ve been longing for him? He should know that this has been torture for me, waiting for this moment. And from the way he’s looking at me, I’m certain he’s about to make it up to me.

He slips his fingers under the band of my underwear and slides it down my legs, his gaze flaring bright as it reveals how wet and ready I am for him. He dips his head, exploring the grooves and folds of me with his tongue, and I release a moan that carries away all my anxiety with it. I let the ecstasy wash over me, my heart swelling with my pleasure.

Even if my head is conflicted about who Ruskin is right now, even if his mind is missing pieces of our puzzle, our bodies know who we are, and mine responds to him now with the same fire—burning as it always has for him.

The heat of his mouth is more intense now that there’s no barrier between us and I whimper, reaching down on impulse to wrap my hand around one of his horns. I tug gently on it, using it to steer his head closer against my clit, guiding him to devour me in just the way I need.

He laughs, the sound quickly cut off by the return of his lips to my skin, feasting on the most intimate part of me, driving me wild with the strong, firm strokes of his tongue until the building climax can’t be held back anymore.

I twist my hands into the sheets beneath me, quivering with the force of the orgasm, releasing a wild noise as it grips me in that perfect moment of bliss before it fades away. My vision, made hazy with pleasure, begins to sharpen again, and all I want to do is stretch this moment out forever.

“Rus,” I say, reaching out for him, aware of the erection straining against the fabric of his pants. I want to make him feel as good as he’s just made me, to give him the same level of closeness, but he gently takes my hands and clasps them to him.

“Not tonight,” he says, kissing me again, letting me know that it’s okay that this moment was just for me. I think we both know I needed it most, that I was going a little crazy cutting myself off from the man I love. Now he’s pulled me back from that edge, and I feel stronger and saner for it.

We get ready for bed, and I revel in the ability to lie beside Ruskin properly again, with the press of his warm body against my back and his arm beneath me. I could happily lie here forever, but even here reality comes creeping back in, as I consider what waits for me tomorrow.

“Ruskin…” I begin, wondering how to broach the topic.