Page 32 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

Sometime in the soft blur between moonlight and morning, Maeve drifted in a cocoon of heat and sensation.

Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion, her body aching in that blissful, sated way that only came after being loved thoroughly, again and again.

She was warm, cradled in Eiran’s arms, his body curled around hers, one strong thigh slotted between hers, his chest against her back.

The steady thrum of his breath ghosted across the back of her neck, his arm anchoring her close.

It was as though even in sleep, he refused to let her go and she fell back into an unfamiliar slumber.

Her dreams were strange. Vivid flashes of gold and green, of Xelaini’s vast dark wings sweeping across a sky painted in storm light and of the Chain glowing with molten colours at her wrist. She dreamt of Eiran, his eyes like poured sky, his voice whispering her name in a thousand ways, each one more desperate than the last.

She stirred with a soft gasp, waking fully when she felt the unmistakable press of his mouth between her thighs. “Eiran!” she breathed, voice rough with sleep, confusion and pleasure tangling in her chest.

His low rumble was the only answer, a deep sound, edged with desire, thick with something near-devotional.

She lifted her head, heart pounding, and found his eyes already on her, glinting with heat and mischief from beneath dark lashes.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured against her skin, his lips brushing the most sensitive part of her.

“Didn’t want to wake you, but you taste like heaven when you dream. ”

Eiran moved over her with the kind of ease that made her heart ache.

No urgency, no command, just the just the slow, lingering touch of a man who hungered for more than flesh.

His body was heavy and warm above hers, muscles flexing as he guided himself inside her once more.

She gasped, arching up into him as he filled her completely.

“Still with me, love?” he asked, voice rough and honeyed with affection.

She curled her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. “Always.”

He rocked into her, slow and deep, his forehead pressed to hers, their breaths tangling. “I’m not sure I’ll ever stop wanting you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek, her nose, the corner of her mouth. “Not in this life, or in the next.”

She smiled, heart stuttering. “That’s a lot of pressure for a woman who hasn’t even had her morning coffee.”

He huffed a laugh, biting gently at her jaw. “I’ll serve it to you in bed every day, if you let me do this first.”

“Hmm,” she said, squirming beneath him. “You’ve got a deal.”

His pace picked up slightly, rhythm syncing with the way her hips rose to meet him. “I love you,” he whispered. “Every part. Every glimmer, every shadow, every sharp edge you try to hide.”

Love.

He had said it again, she pushed that thought away as she laced her fingers at the back of his neck, her chest tightening at the truth of his words and she dismissed it saying, “You see too much.”

He kissed her, tender and deep. “Not enough, never enough of you.”

They moved together in perfect rhythm, hips sliding, hands gripping and hearts beating in synchrony.

The pressure built slowly, winding tighter and tighter until the orgasm broke over them at the same time, white-hot and crashing, unyielding and utterly overwhelming, like lightning ripping through the tower.

Maeve cried out beneath him, clutching him to her as Eiran groaned against her mouth, his hips stuttering.

A second later, the entire tower shuddered, followed by a loud, irritated snort echoing outside the stone walls and he collapsed beside her, breathless laughter spilling from his chest. “Ugh, we’ve pushed our luck. ”

Maeve, still catching her breath, blinked at the ceiling. “Did the building just…?”

“Xelaini,” he said, already grinning. “She requests an audience.”

Maeve groaned and pulled a pillow over her face. “Your dragon is going to eat me.”

Eiran stretched with a smug, post-orgasmic ease. “She may just want tea.”