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Chapter Fifty-One

Lilianna

I’d finished my bath and curled up in my nest with a book, letting my mind drift back to the camping trip with Miles.

The warm water had eased the pleasant ache in my muscles, and being wrapped in a soft robe, I felt both relaxed and strangely alert.

My skin seemed more sensitive, my senses heightened as I recalled the way Christopher had looked at me in the kitchen.

The book in my hands couldn't hold my attention. My thoughts kept wandering to his kiss, to the promise in his eyes when he'd told me to take a bath. I wondered if he was waiting for me to come to him, or if he would come find me when he was ready.

A soft knock at my door answered that question.

"Come in," I called, setting the book aside and sitting up straighter in my nest.

Christopher appeared in the doorway, his tall frame filling the space with quiet confidence. His jaw was tight. Controlled. But his eyes—those deep, unguarded eyes—burned with intent. “You look like temptation itself,” he said softly, shutting the door behind him with a deliberate click .

“You’re the one who told me to take a bath,” I said, my voice catching as I sat up straighter in my nest, the strap of my nightgown sliding slightly off my shoulder. “I’m just following orders.”

Christopher didn’t smile. He crossed the room in three silent steps, his gaze raking over me as he knelt beside the edge of the nest. His hand reached out, fingers tracing the silk strap that had slipped down my arm with reverent care.

"Following orders," he repeated, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "I like the sound of that."

The touch of his fingertips against my skin sent electricity racing through me. I shivered, not from cold but from the intensity of his gaze as he watched my reaction to his touch.

"Christopher ," I whispered, his name a plea I wasn't entirely sure how to finish.

"I know," he murmured, his thumb brushing along my collarbone. "I can smell your arousal, wildflower. Sweet and intoxicating." His other hand came up to cup my face, tilting my chin so I had to meet his eyes.

His touch was feather-light as he traced the line of my collarbone with one hand, his eyes following the path of his fingers with reverent attention. The silk nightgown felt almost too thin under his gaze, and I shivered despite the warmth of the room.

"Christopher," I breathed, my hands reaching for him instinctively.

"Shh," he whispered, catching my hands and pressing them gently back to my sides. "Let me take care of you. You've been so brave, so strong. Let me show you how much that means to me."

He moved with deliberate slowness, his hands mapping every curve through the silk as if committing each detail to memory. When his fingers found the hem of my nightgown, he paused, looking up to meet my gaze.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.

I nodded, my breath catching as he slowly lifted the silk up my thighs, over my hips, revealing more of me with each passing second.

When he finally pulled the nightgown over my head, leaving me bare beneath his heated gaze, I resisted the urge to cover myself.

The way he looked at me—like I was art, like I was precious—made me feel beautiful rather than exposed.

"Perfect," he murmured, setting the silk aside without taking his eyes off me.

His hands skimmed my sides, thumbs brushing just beneath my breasts as he leaned down to press a kiss to my throat.

The gentle pressure of his lips against my pulse point made me gasp, my back arching involuntarily toward him.

"So responsive," Christopher murmured against my skin, his breath warm and teasing. "I've dreamed about this—about having you spread out in your nest, completely mine to worship."

His mouth traced a path down my throat, pausing to lavish attention on my collarbone before continuing lower. When his lips found the sensitive spot just below my ear, I couldn't suppress the soft moan that escaped me.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Don't hold back. I want to hear every sound you make." His hands moved with practiced skill, one cupping my breast while the other traced patterns along my inner thigh.

The dual sensations made me tremble beneath him, my body responding to his touch with an eagerness that still surprised me. His thumb circled my nipple with gentle pressure while his other hand moved higher on my thigh, so close to where I needed him most but not quite there yet.

"Please," I whispered, my hips shifting restlessly against the soft blankets of my nest.

Christopher lifted his head to look at me, his gray eyes dark with desire. "Please what, wildflower? Use your words."

The command in his voice, made heat pool low in my belly. "Touch me," I managed, my cheeks flushing at my own boldness. "I need you to touch me."

"Where?" he asked, his fingers stilling on my thigh. "Here?" His hand moved fractionally higher, making me gasp.

"Higher," I breathed, my voice barely audible. He gave a low hum but didn’t move to where I was aching for him to touch.

"Higher," I pleaded again, my body arching toward his touch. Christopher's smile was predatory as he finally, finally slid his hand where I needed him most. The first brush of his fingers against my core made me gasp, my hips lifting instinctively to meet his touch.

"So wet already," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "Is this all for me, Lilianna?"

"Yes," I breathed, clutching at his shoulders as his fingers explored with exquisite precision, but let out a whine when he let his hand move away from me.

"Christopher, please," I gasped, my hips lifting involuntarily, seeking his touch.

"I love when you beg," he murmured, his lips curving into a wicked smile that made my heart race.

"But I've been dreaming about this for too long to rush it.

" His mouth descended, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone, then lower, trailing fire across my skin until he reached my breast.

When his lips closed around my nipple, a cry escaped me that I couldn't have contained if I tried.

His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, alternating between gentle licks and firmer suction that had me writhing beneath him.

My hands fisted in his hair, holding him against me as pleasure radiated through my body from that single point of contact.

"Christopher," I gasped, my voice breaking on his name.

He hummed against my skin, the vibration sending new waves of sensation through me. His free hand kneaded my other breast, thumb rolling over the nipple until it peaked under his attention. The dual assault on my senses was almost too much to bear.

"So sensitive," he murmured, switching his attention to my other breast. "I could spend hours just worshipping these perfect breasts."

The thought of him taking his time, of being at his mercy for hours, made me shiver with anticipation. My body was already thrumming with need, and he'd barely begun even touching me.

Christopher's mouth left my breast, trailing kisses down my stomach with maddening slowness. Each press of his lips against my skin felt like a brand, marking me as his. When he reached my hip bone, he paused, his breath hot against my sensitive flesh.

"You taste like honey and wildflowers," he murmured, his hands spreading my thighs wider. "I've been craving this since that first day in the kitchen when you looked at me like you wanted to devour me."

I couldn't form words, could only whimper as his mouth moved lower. The sensation was delicious torture, making me arch and writhe beneath him. When his tongue finally found my center, I cried out, my back bowing off the nest as pleasure crashed through me.

"So sweet, " Christopher groaned against me, the vibration of his voice making me shudder with need.

He worked with the same methodical precision he brought to cooking, alternating between long, slow strokes and focused attention on that bundle of nerves that made me see stars.

My hands clutched at the blankets of my nest, seeking purchase as he built the tension inside me with deliberate care.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, lifting his head just enough to meet my gaze. His lips were slick, his eyes dark with hunger. "I want to watch you fall apart."

I forced my eyes to stay open, to hold his gaze as he returned his attention to my core.

The visual of him between my thighs, combined with the exquisite torture of his tongue, pushed me closer to the edge.

My breathing became ragged, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

When he slipped two fingers inside me while his tongue continued to devour me, his eyes locked on me at every movement.

"Let go," he murmured against me, his voice rough with desire, his fingers working faster as they curled inside me, sending shots of pleasure through me. "I want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."

The command combined with him biting softly on the bundle of nerves sent me over the edge.

I cried out his name, my body arching as waves of pleasure crashed through me.

Christopher didn't stop, working me through the climax until I was gasping for air.

As the intensity of pleasure subsided into pulsing aftershocks, Christopher kissed his way back up my body, his lips leaving a trail of fire along my sensitive skin.

When he reached my mouth, he captured it in a kiss that tasted of me—raw and intimate in a way that made me moan against his lips.

"Beautiful," he murmured against my mouth, his hand cupping my face with surprising tenderness. "You're even more responsive than I imagined."

I reached for him, suddenly aware that he was still fully clothed while I lay bare before him. "Too many layers," I whispered, tugging at his shirt with newfound boldness.