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Luna

I couldn’t read the article fast enough.

Every word written tugged at a piece of my heart.

It was like he’d taken the words from my impromptu speech at the tavern yesterday and poured them onto the page.

My heart swelled, and happy tears filled my vision, making it even harder to read.

I’d barely finished when I threw myself at him again.

This time, his wind anticipated my actions.

My arms looped around his neck as I leaped from the floor into his hold.

He bore my weight effortlessly as my legs wrapped around his waist.

His wind encircled us as I fused my lips to his.

I wanted no space between us.

“It’s perfect,” I said between kisses.

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I struggled to catch my breath as my lips moved to his neck, and I ran my hands freely through his hair.

His smile against my lips as I did so brought me warmth in a way that had nothing to do with my body pressed against his—though it did nothing to stop my thoughts from roaming to the closest place we could be alone.

He lifted his head and searched the room as if understanding my thoughts.

The kitchen was not a great option.

It had two doors and no locks.

“Do you have something in the oven?” he asked, his voice a little desperate with indecision.

“Yes, and it’s almost done.” I slipped from his arms, but not before pressing another lingering kiss to his lips.

“As soon as it’s done, you’re mine,” I said as I turned to check on the baking muffins.

His gaze tracked me as I crossed the room to the oven.

Glancing over my shoulder, I couldn’t help but sigh at the picture he made, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

He looked thoughtful, even as his pose had me fanning myself.

“I’m sorry, I made this entirely about me when I walked in. I thought I’d need to do more groveling, having not returned when I said I would.” His voice was a little gravelly as he spoke, attempting to suppress the emotion in the statement.

Part of him must have expected me to assume the worst.

“Please tell me about your day. How did you fill the inn?”

“It’s not quite full,” I said as I opened the oven.

“But we do have guests. Lots of them. And they’re all staying until Long Night.”

He held my gaze, waiting for my explanation.

“I asked for help.” I shrugged, not sure what else to say.

“You inspired me.”

This was how I would explain how much I admired what he’d done.

Not just because it had saved Darius from unwarranted embarrassment but because it had been the right thing for him—for Vincent.

“When I couldn’t find you and realized you had to be confronting your parents, I knew you were being true to yourself, standing up for the beliefs that drove you from Andiveron House in the first place. I went to Parkview Tavern to do the same. Mom’s actions made me realize how much I wanted to embrace both parts of myself.” I swallowed.

“Once I knew the blood magic was gone, nothing was holding me back. The tavern was full, not only of friends and customers but of their guests and out-of-towners. I told them all about the inn and the kind of place I wanted it to be, very much like the article you wrote.” I gestured to the paper.

“And a lot of them came. Others came independently; the magic must have been working hard to drive people away.”

He reached for me, unable to stay away after I closed the oven again and grabbed a towel to retrieve the muffins.

“I’m so proud of you, Luna. This is amazing. You did it.”

“We did it.”

His lip tilted into a half smile.

“I’m sure I didn’t do anything.”

I opened the oven a final time, pulling out the muffins and setting them on the rack to cool.

“You helped me realize I had magic,” I started.

“You stood by me while I figured out what to do about my father.”

“Forced you to speak with the father you thought had abandoned you to get the promotion you requested for your inn,” he said, giving me a winning smile.

“Not my finest hour.”

I pulled him to me, loving him for that.

For how we’d met, the bargain we’d struck, and how our relationship had evolved.

Turning to face him fully, I let the thought send butterflies through my stomach, and further words lodged in my throat.

“Luna?” he said, reading the change in my features.

I reached up to push a strand from his face.

His wind wrapped around my hand as I did so, though it left me the actual work of running my fingers through his thick brown hair.

When they slid to his neck, I pulled him down for another kiss .

“I love you, Vincent,” I said.

He stared at me, mouth gaping like he was a fish.

I wanted to laugh, but I was also feeling too much to stomach it.

This male.

He was everything I needed and hadn’t known I was searching for.

We might have been opposites—he might like fine things and proper etiquette, I might like to dance to the beat of my own drum—but his resistance to changing me, to trying to force me into the mold of his past successful recommendations, was part of what had made me realize the value of my uniqueness.

I wanted to tell him that.

I wanted to explain everything in detail, but when I tried to put the words together, they were a jumbled mess in my mind.

The only clear words, the only words that expressed the sentiment I felt, were the ones I said.

“I love you, Vincent,” I said again.

This time, he shook himself free from his stupor.

“I love you, too, Luna.” He leaned into my space, pressing our foreheads together.

“I never dreamed I’d find someone as right as you. Someone who challenges me while encouraging me to be the best version of myself, whatever that looks like.”

His wind surrounded us, blowing my hair from my face as Vincent stooped to kiss me.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter, as his lips found their way to my neck.

He paused his progress and glanced over my shoulder.

He must have realized the muffins were out of the oven and I was free to leave the kitchen.

At the same moment, his hands slid behind my thighs, and he hoisted me into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist again.

He carried me to the next room, the office.

It had a lock on the door.

My heartbeat raced in anticipation as he kicked the door closed behind us and slid the bolt into place.

Once it clicked, he had my back on the desk, and he leaned over me for another deep, scorching kiss .

“I love you.” He tested the words again like he wasn’t sure he could say them freely.

I smiled, running my fingers over any part of him I could reach as he shifted me to lift my skirt.

I helped, and then a needy whine slipped free as his delicious weight lifted from me.

He didn’t leave me wanting, though, as he fell to his knees at the corner of the desk.

My skirt was free to lift with the last shift.

His hands ran over my skin, my calves, my thighs, my hips.

Each movement had my body heating and squirming in anticipation of his next.

He teased me mercilessly until his mouth finally pressed against my center, a layer of silk still separating him from where I needed him most.

My body trembled in anticipation as he slid the fabric out of the way and circled me with his tongue.

Need overcame me, and I fell back against the desk.

“Touch me, please,” I said, my voice breathy.

He chuckled.

“I am touching you.” His voice was low and rumbly in a way my Vincent’s usually wasn’t.

“You know what I mean,” I hissed, thrusting my hips toward him.

His laugh was decadent this time, a noise I wanted to hear a thousand more times.

“So greedy,” he said as his finger plunged inside.

My back bowed, and his mouth was on me all at once.

I gasped and writhed as his lips, tongue, and fingers worked in tandem to stoke my pleasure.

It was like he’d studied every hitch of my breath, every twitch of my body, each reaction to his every languid stroke our first night together.

He was an artist, and I was his greatest work.

The satisfied tilt of his lip grew along with my pleasure.

“Pleased with yourself?” I breathed between strokes of his tongue at my center.

“A little,” he said when he came up for air.

He swirled his tongue around my clit.

“I love learning what winds you up.” He paused, watching me.

The intensity of his gaze had me as light-headed as the work of his fingers and tongue.

His smirk grew, and before I could question it, he pounced, sucking hard precisely where I wanted him.

I exploded.

A moan escaped, and my back arched impossibly farther toward him.

His fingers plunged into my heat as he coaxed me through my release.

I was a puddle against the desk, and I could only hope no one was around the office.

My cheeks heated as I realized I had not been at all quiet.

His lip tilted into another smile as if reading my mind.

“It’s an inn. It could have been any of the guests.”

“In the office?”

He shrugged.

“You never know, with the scenery…”

I crooked a finger at him, and he brought his face to mine for another kiss.

“Might as well keep going. Let everyone know all are satisfied at Cliff House Inn.”

“Such service,” he replied huskily as I grabbed his cock, exploring the silk and steel of him.

I was thinking a girl could get used to this.

Then I couldn’t think of anything as our bodies joined, and all I knew was ecstasy.