Page 41 of My Solemn Vow

I didn’t have any expectations of what kissing him would be like. He didn’t kiss me at the wedding ceremony. This makes up for it. His lips against mine are soft, but the kiss is firm. When his tongue prods my lips, I open and let him take my mouth.

I’ve been kissed but not like this. Valor isn’t demanding, but he’s not complacent as he explores the depth of the kiss. Heat builds between us, and he nips my bottom lip. His fingers clench into my wet hair, but it’s not to control me further. Neither hurried nor slow, this kiss reignites the warmth I subdued with my shower.

The cold tile beneath my feet doesn’t stop the desire radiating through my body. And when I don’t think I can take it anymore, Valor groans against my mouth. “Fuck, darling. Making this easy for me, aren’t you?”

“Making what easy?” I whisper against his lips, panting.

I don’t remember the last minute, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breathing.

He laughs and releases my hair but doesn’t let me go. “Falling in lust with you.”

Valor tugs at the towel I’d wrapped around myself, and I don’t resist because what’s the difference anyway?

But he doesn’t rip it off me and haul me to the bedroom. Instead, he runs the soft cloth over my skin, drying me off. On his way down my stomach, he trails his tongue along the same path his knife took, the space where I’d noticed a tiny red line when washing.

And when he’s done, he pulls at the towel I’d wrapped my hair in. “Do you need to do something with this?”

I shake it out and gather it, twisting the strands around each other and in opposite directions until it’s in a wrapped rope. I twist it up to the nape of my neck and secure it with a binder I’d pulled out of my hair from the updo. The joys of straight hair and heatless curls... Product would have been nice, but one day of mistreating my hair isn’t the end of the world.

“Come to bed, darling.” Leading me by the hand, he walks backward out of the bathroom.

19

VALOR

THE TALK

Kissing Antonella was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I’m thirsty for more, but Antonella is timid. She hesitates to follow with small, unhurried steps as I lead her to the bed.

I stripped off the covers earlier, leaving the sheet to make this easier, but does it look like I’m too eager?

When the backs of my knees bump against the mattress, I sit and spread my legs. Antonella obediently stands between them. Her height has her head slightly above me, the bed here lower than mine at home. I’m practically eye to eye with her beautiful tits, her soft pink nipples demanding my attention. I restrain myself from touching, pinching, exploring and instead take the opportunity to admire her body, bared before me.

There’s something enchanting about her. Her soft, smooth skin, slightly pinkened by the warmth of the shower. Freckles dot her body in various places, and the tattoos on her arms are the only ones I can see.

I want this, us, to be about more than checking a box for the sake of the truce. I remember what it was like to be married, butnowhere in this relationship has there been room for it. It’s unfair of me to ask for more from her. Especially now.

With each second that ticks by, she becomes less self-assured and confident. There’s no getting out of this, but I’d rather it not be something that happensto herin this way. Not if it’s something we can do together and enjoy. Maybe, if I’m lucky, the little glimpses I got of her submitting are more than a conditioned response. Maybe it’s who she is.

“What’s wrong?”

Antonella shakes her head and denies the tension in her shoulders, despite the way they’re pushed up toward her ears. “It’s nothing. Everything is fine. For the record, I’m not a virgin. It’s just that it’s been non-penetrative, fingers and tongue only.”

Alarm bells sound in my mind. I study her face and features.

She diverts her gaze and turns her head away from me.

Submitting again.My wolf tunes in, watching now that I’m on edge once more.

Her refusal to admit sexual partners must be because Antonella is afraid of what I may do or say. My stomach settles, and the murderous thoughts quit fogging up my mind. Clarity takes over as I think about the way she danced around her virginity but isn’t completely timid and shy.

Old-fashioned values are staunch in her family.

Men and women, in the biblical sense.

I feel ridiculous that it took me this long to come up with it.

I try to be gentle with my question. “Antonella, you’re not a virgin, but you’ve never been with a man. You’re bisexual or...?”