Page 55 of Eluvonia (Rift of Ages #1)

With my back turned toward him, I can feel every deliberate brush of his fingers as he works through my hair.

“Don’t push your luck,” I shoot back, but my words lack bite.

He continues working, his hands trailing down to smooth out the strands along my shoulders.

His touch lingers longer than necessary, brushing against my collarbone as if testing a boundary.

Goosebumps rise in the wake of his fingers, and I swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between us.

I shift slightly, turning my head to glance back at him. His face is closer than I expected, his eyes focused intently on his work. Or maybe on me. The thought makes my heart beat faster.

“Kaida,” I say his name softly, and his gaze snaps up to meet mine. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us feels heavier, charged, like the moment before lightning strikes.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost hesitant. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, quickly masked by his usual confidence, but it’s enough to make me pause.

Slowly, I turn to face him, the water lapping gently around us. His hands rest lightly on my arms, his touch feather-soft but steady. His eyes roam my face, searching for something unspoken, and I’m caught in the intensity of his gaze.

“Aeris,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes against my cheek, wiping away a stray droplet of water. The tenderness of the gesture sends a shiver down my spine, and I’m not sure if it’s the cool night air or the way his eyes darken as they linger on my lips.

He leans in, slow and deliberate, giving me every chance to pull away. Every chance to stop this before it begins. But I don’t.

His breath ghosts over my lips, warm and inviting, sending a shiver down my spine.

His lips brush against mine, soft at first, hesitant, as though he’s testing the waters.

The slightest tease of contact, a featherlight touch that ignites something deep inside me.

He lingers there, giving me time, giving me choice.

But there’s no hesitation in me, no uncertainty—I want this, I want him .

When I don’t pull back, he presses harder, deepening the kiss with a quiet intensity that steals my breath.

His lips mold to mine, firm yet coaxing, a slow seduction that sends heat pooling low in my stomach.

His hand slides up my side, fingers tracing the curve of my waist before splaying across my back, pulling me closer.

The warmth of his body seeps into me, a delicious contrast against the cool water surrounding us.

His tongue teases the seam of my lips, seeking, tasting.

I part for him, and the second our tongues meet, a low groan rumbles in his chest. The sound sends a fresh wave of heat curling through me, and I press against him, wanting more, needing more.

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of my head, fingers tangling in my wet hair as he tilts my face to deepen the kiss.

It’s slow and deliberate, yet utterly consuming, as though he’s savoring every second, every movement.

His tongue strokes against mine, lazy and sinuous, coaxing soft, breathy whimpers from my lips.

My hands wander over the hard planes of his chest, the smooth lines of muscle beneath my fingertips making my pulse race.

I barely notice when his grip tightens, when his hands slide lower, pulling me flush against him.

But I feel it—the undeniable heat of him, the rigid press of his arousal trapped behind his leather pants, a silent promise of everything he’s holding back.

A thrill courses through me at the restraint in his touch, the way he holds himself on the edge, waiting for me, needing me to meet him there.

And I do.

I press my body to his, molding against him, and his breath shudders as he deepens the kiss once more, pouring every ounce of restrained hunger into it.

My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging lightly, and the sharp inhale he gives in response sends a thrill through me.

His lips leave mine just long enough to whisper my name against my skin, his voice thick with desire before he trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck, leaving a burning path in their wake.

His hands roam my body like he’s memorizing every curve, every dip, every shiver that rolls through me at his touch.

The heat between us is electric, the air thick with want, and still, he takes his time. His fingers drift lower, brushing along the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, teasing, tempting—but then he stops.

He lifts his head, his darkened eyes searching mine, his breath coming fast and hot against my lips.

There’s a question in his gaze, a silent request for permission, for trust. My heart pounds, my body thrumming with anticipation.

A slow, knowing smile curves my lips, and I reach for his hand, guiding him where I need him most. His sharp inhale is intoxicating, his restraint crumbling as his fingers finally press against my clit .

A shudder wracks through me at the first deliberate stroke.

One of my hands slides up to his shoulder, my fingers digging into the firm muscle as my other tangles in the damp strands of his hair, pulling him closer.

His grip tightens at my waist, dragging me flush against him until there’s nothing between us but the heated press of his skin, the solid length of him straining behind his leather pants, and the water rippling around us.

His lips find my throat, warm and insistent as he trails open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck, tasting, teasing.

He lingers at the delicate curve where my pulse pounds the hardest, his tongue flicking out to trace a slow, torturous path before he moves lower.

Each brush of his lips sends a fresh wave of heat pooling deep in my core.

His mouth closes over one of my nipples, tongue swirling, flicking, teasing until a moan spills past my lips.

My fingers tighten in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groans in response, the sound vibrating against my skin and sending another pulse of arousal through me.

His fingers move in slow, deliberate circles, teasing and testing, watching every little reaction I give him.

My body responds instinctively, hips tilting into his touch, chasing the friction he gives so wickedly.

Soft whimpers escape me as pleasure builds, twisting tighter and tighter until I’m on the edge of breaking.

And then he straightens, his mouth crashing into mine with a fierceness that steals my breath.

His kiss is consuming, desperate, as if he wants to devour every sound, every sensation between us.

My body trembles as his fingers finally slide inside me, stretching, filling, his touch utterly possessive.

A muffled moan spills between us, swallowed by his lips, and he growls low in his throat—a primal, hungry sound that only makes me burn hotter.

He doesn’t let up, his fingers working me open with slow, intoxicating precision, his mouth swallowing every gasp, every moan, until I’m lost in him, in the water, in the heat of his touch.

Without warning, his wings snap out, large and imposing, enclosing us in a cocoon of privacy.

The sudden motion startles me, breaking our kiss, but the possessive gleam in his eyes roots me in place.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice thick and raw.

“I don’t want anyone seeing you like this—only me. ”

I can’t help but smile against his lips, drunk on the way he touches me, on the way his fingers move in slow, intoxicating strokes that unravel me piece by piece. I kiss him again, pouring everything into it—desire, surrender, the raw need clawing its way through me.

His fingers work me with deliberate precision, teasing and coaxing as he builds a steady, devastating rhythm that stokes the fire burning in my core.

My body reacts instinctively, hips rolling into his touch, seeking more, needing more.

I whimper against his lips, the sound a desperate plea, and he answers it without hesitation.

His pace quickens, each stroke deeper, more consuming.

The pleasure intensifies, curling low in my belly, winding tighter and tighter with every motion.

His breath is hot against my skin, his body a wall of searing heat pressing against mine, the rigid length of him a silent promise of everything still to come.

He breaks the kiss with a ragged breath, his forehead resting against mine, his movements unrelenting.

My gasps come in frantic bursts, my nails digging into his skin, dragging down his back, leaving behind streaks of red as I cling to him.

He groans, the sound raw and primal, vibrating against me like a caress.

The tension inside me coils impossibly tight, every nerve in my body wound to the brink of breaking. And then—like a dam shattering, like the first crack of a wildfire breaking free—I come undone.

Pleasure crashes through me in pulsing, overwhelming waves, my body trembling in his hold as I cry out, the sound lost to the vastness of the forest around us.

His arms tighten around me, steadying me as I shatter, his name a breathless whisper on my lips, my body still pulsing around his fingers as he works me through every last blissful tremor.

I feel him watching me, his gaze dark, molten with hunger, his breath ragged. But he doesn’t move—not yet. He just holds me, watching, waiting, like he’s memorizing this moment, burning it into his soul.

And gods help me, I want more .

Slowly, he withdraws his fingers, his touch lingering as if reluctant to let go. He raises them out of the water and to his mouth, his eyes locked on mine as he tastes me, a low, satisfied moan escaping him. “You taste like the heavens,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

Before I can respond, a distant noise cuts through the stillness, pulling us both back to reality.

His wings fold back into his body, and he chuckles softly, his hands settling on my waist to steady me.

“I’m not done with you, my Líer,” he murmurs, his voice a promise that sends a shiver down my spine.

“But when I have you again, it’ll be somewhere far away from interruptions. Somewhere I can take my time.”

His words linger between us as he pulls me closer, his warmth grounding me even as my mind reels.