Page 37

Bronwyn

M alik lifted Bronwyn in his arms in one fell swoop and carried her to his bedchamber. His strength, even after his injuries and the events of the night, was astonishing. But then, the discovery of her art and his confession had long since burned away any hint of tiredness she felt, so perhaps it was the same for him.

He laid her upon the bed with reverence before letting his gaze travel slowly down her form and back up again. Then, he grabbed a fistful of the skirt of her pink dress. “Now, what shall we do about this monstrosity?”

The description was far too accurate, especially now that it was stained with blood, likely not all of it hers.

“Rip it. Shred it. I don’t care.”

“Oh?” The hint of a smirk rose to his lips again. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“You know I hate pink.” That was only part of it though. Blood stains marred the cloth, and even if they didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to wear it again without remembering the opera disaster. She slid off the bed and offered him her back. Tugging her hair forward, she said, “A little help?”

A soft gasp slipped from her as he placed a light kiss at the top of her spine. Leave it to Malik to be slow when she desperately wanted him to hurry. “Why wear it, then?”

With a frustrated sigh, she replied, “It was Wynni’s idea. I’d planned to wear blue, but she said pink would be the best color for that particular opera, though I have no idea why.”

“I suppose we’ll have to ask one day.” He stepped back, and the sudden loss of his warmth left her bereft.

Bronwyn glanced over one shoulder just in time to see him pull a thin blade from one boot. “What—”

“You said rip it, and these buttons might take me all night.” He gestured to the back of the ridiculous dress. “I’m afraid I’m not that patient.”

Good. Neither was she.

Bronwyn held still while Malik used his sharp little blade to carefully slice off the long line of buttons. In moments, the dress loosened and fell to a puddle at her feet, leaving her in a corset and shift. He raised the blade again, but this time she stopped him. “These I like”—she gestured to herself—“and can get out of myself.”

He chuckled but stepped back.

Getting undressed in front of a man was … different. New. No matter how she ached for him and longed to have his body pressed against hers, revealing herself made her feel vulnerable in an entirely new way. And where she often wasn’t modest with her words and scorned some of society’s prudishness, in this, she was a blushing girl suddenly unsure of herself.

Malik had no such qualms and shed his own clothing with fervor.

With her shift still in place, Bronwyn halted. Her hands gripped the fabric, but she found herself unable to raise them.

“Look at me,” Malik ordered, voice low and gravelly.

She did, her heart skipping a beat, her gaze dipping to the proud erection between his legs. All thoughts vanished at the sight of him, everything but the desire to memorize every line of his body. He was a work of art himself—lean but muscular torso, narrow waist, a trail of dark hair that travelled down his abdomen to his cock. He stood with his legs spread, confident, secure in the powerful form he presented and happy to let her take in the sight.

“You don’t need to hide from me.” He advanced slowly, like a wolf stalking its prey. She let him, refusing to retreat even as his legs pressed up against hers and trapped her against the edge of the bed.

“I’m not hiding.” Yet, her voice held a little quiver.

His lips found the crook of her neck. “Have you done this before?” he asked against her skin.

She wanted to be bold, to say that of course she had, she was no mewling girl. But the truth was she hadn’t, and in the silence that followed, he seemed to settle into that knowledge. He licked at her pulse, then retreated, pupils flaring as he took her in.

“I’m honored that you are mine. All mine.” He cupped her cheek, smoothing his thumb along it. “I will endeavor to be worthy of you.” His hand dropped to grab a fistful of her shift. “But I would see you, all of you, if you will.”

The hunger in his gaze bolstered her confidence. She batted his hand away, grabbed her undergarment, and pulled it over her head before she could second-guess herself again. The air against her heated skin caused gooseflesh to break out and her nipples to pebble.

A groan rumbled deep in his throat. As his palm settled on her bare waist, the contact sent a new surge of heat straight to her core. He tugged her against him, and she let out a breathy whimper, her body tingling with unmet desire.

“I’m yours,” she promised. “All yours.”

They tumbled back onto the bed. No sooner had her back landed on the soft coverings than Malik rose up on his knees between her legs. He grabbed her hand and placed her palm against his pounding chest. “This is yours.” He led it down, across his sculpted abdomen to the rod between his legs. He wrapped her fingers gently around its silken length. The feel of it, of him , in her hands made her mouth go dry. “This is yours. All of me belongs only to you.”

She marveled at the feel of him, his flesh hard and soft all at once. A little bead of moisture gathered at the tip, and she slid her thumb over it, earning a hiss of pleasure from the man above her. He was glorious. But how in the name of the Goddess was she supposed to take all of him? The thought terrified and excited in equal measure.

“What was it you said?” she asked, looking into his eyes. “I shall endeavor to be worthy of you?”

A chuckle filled the air between them. Slipping from her grip, he leaned down over her, propped on his forearms. “You already are.”

Then his mouth collided with hers. This kiss wasn’t delicate or tentative, not like the press of his weight against her. This was hungry, ravenous. His teeth nipped at her bottom lip, and she opened for him, relishing the flick of his tongue against hers.

Though she wound her arms around him, hands in his hair tugging him close, the weight and warmth of him lifted. With his lips still on hers, she loosed a small sound of frustration.

Bronwyn wiggled her hips and met the firm warmth of his hand as he palmed her mound. A gasp slipped from her as one finger slid down her seam.

“So wet for me,” Malik whispered against her lips.

She was. Embarrassingly so. Much more than any time she’d touched herself. Even more than after the night of Griffith’s party, when Malik had kissed her twice, once in the study and then in the carriage. She’d had to bring herself to climax twice to finally settle herself to sleep.

One finger slipped inside, stroking her within. That steady thrust and rub made something deep in her stomach blossom, a spiral sucking her down, down, down into the whirlpool of Malik. Finally, she was ready to dive in headfirst. A second finger joined the first, and she bucked against him, whimpering at the pleasure he wrung from her. His calloused thumb teased the nub between her legs and sent a jolt of lightning through her body. “Malik!”

He groaned, sucking her bottom lip between his. “Let go. Come for me.”

It wasn’t fair, to be so undone when they’d only just begun, but if Bronwyn had learned anything, it was that Malik never played fair.

Another flick of his thumb, and something in her shattered. She cried out, head thrashing as she clung to Malik, her fingers still tangled in his hair.

“That’s it.” He continued to stroke her, slower now, drawing out her pleasure. “I’ve got you.”

“Malik,” she panted, staring into his eyes.

A gentle kiss pressed against her lips. “There you are,” he crooned. “I think you might be ready for me now.”

A half-laugh slipped from Bronwyn. He’d just left her dizzy with pleasure and now she was ready? Malik leaned back, sitting on his heels between her spread legs. It was a lewd pose she took, her knees spread with everything bare for him to see, especially still wet and glistening from her orgasm. She started to close her legs, but Malik shoved them wide again.

“Uhn-uh,” he tsked. “Don’t hide from me. You are stunning. All of you. I’ve thought so from the moment I first saw you.”

“When did you become so complimentary?” she teased, panting for breath.

He chuckled. “Haven’t I always been? You simply didn’t believe me.”

She bit her bottom lip as she weighed his words. He was always charming her with pretty words—she’d thought them ridiculous, but now… They had been true?

He stroked himself root to tip, and every thought eddied out of her head. Her gaze locked on his cock.

“You still want me?” he asked.

Ever so slowly, she let her gaze crawl up his muscular form. He truly was a work of art. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

He chuckled deep in his throat. “I look forward to each and every one and more.”

Then he was adjusting himself, settling in close until the head of his cock slipped through her folds, and she gave a little whimper. He did it again, covering himself in her wetness. A breath caught in her throat as he sat poised at her entrance.

“Eyes on me, Princess.”

She tore her attention from where their bodies came together. No sooner did their gazes lock than a feral grin stretched his lips and his cock slid inside.

Bronwyn gasped at the feeling of fullness, the odd yet right sensation. He’d barely breached her, yet the connection was mind-bending.

“Oh, fuck,” Malik groaned, sliding ever so slightly deeper. “So tight. So perfect.”

She dared another glance at where they joined, watching him sink further into her before he leaned down, his chest pressing against her breasts. A shudder rolled through her as he bottomed out and went still. Goddess, he was so big. Filling every part of her until there was nothing left.

Malik cradled her cheek. “Are you with me, my love?” His former humor had vanished, only seriousness remaining.

Bronwyn nodded. It hurt. A little. But she had no regrets. Not one. “Yes.”

Slowly, he began to thrust, and the bit of lingering pain vanished completely, shifting to pure pleasure. Something within her knotted up tight again. On instinct, she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips.

A growl of pleasure left him. At her encouragement, his pace increased. One hand toyed with her breast, the thumb that had brought her to climax now flicking across her nipple, making it hard as stone. With him inside her, his hand on her breast, his lips against hers, his breath in her lungs, everything was Malik. There was no start or end to either of them, just the two as one, bound up together.

Finally , her body seemed to say as he sank into her over and over. Finally, finally, finally.

Each stroke brought her closer to the edge of bliss until she was standing on the precipice and all she could see before her was him. Her walls were broken. He’d invaded her thoroughly, yet she had never felt more right.

Malik slid his palm down her body and gripped her ass, adjusting the angle of their coming together. Somehow, he slid even deeper, and Bronwyn finally tumbled off the edge, crying out with pleasure the likes of which she’d never known.

He gasped, body jolting. Though he’d watched her carefully throughout their love making, as if he could memorize each moment to revisit it later, his eyes slammed shut and his head tilted back. A bellow tore from his throat, so loud any neighbors were doomed to hear. His hips jerked into hers one last time, then stilled.

For a moment, it felt like her soul had departed. When it returned, it was to the sound of her name on Malik’s lips and a kiss against the pulse of her neck. “Bronwyn.” Another against her collarbone. “Bronwyn.” A third as a whisper against her lips before he rolled to the side with a groan and slipped free from between her legs.

She’d barely rolled to face him before his arms wound around her, pulling her close. “Bronwyn.”

“I’m here.” She laid her hand against his chest, which rose and fell in quick succession, and savored the feel of his racing pulse.

Their breaths mingled as he stared at her with reverent intensity. With one hand, he smoothed her hair back from her face, his palm lingering against her cheek. “Just when I was beginning to think you could not be any more beautiful.” His brow pinched. “Are you okay, truly? Did I hurt you at all?”

A breathy laugh slipped from her lips. “I am very well. Thoroughly and deliciously ravished.”

His expression morphed into one of mischief. “Thoroughly?” A chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Oh, my love, we’ve only just begun.”