The Bond Grows More

His hand left her waist and, with a slow, deliberate slide, tangled in the hem of her shirt. He paused just long enough for her to inhale—a single, tight breath—before he lifted the thin fabric. His palm flattened, grazing up her side, the contact electric in the hush of the room.

Carolina arched toward him. His touch was tentative for just an instant—an old habit of restraint—then grew bolder, thumb sweeping beneath the curve of her breast. She shivered.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispered, the words barely shaping the air.

She shook her head, voice silent, body answering for her. His hand found her breast, fingers spreading, the heat of his palm striking through the thin cotton. She exhaled—shaky, unguarded—when his thumb brushed the nipple, slow and gentle at first, then pinching just enough to draw a quiet gasp from her throat. The sound seemed to undo him. He bent to kiss the side of her neck, grazing the soft skin just below her jaw with his teeth, not quite biting, then soothing the spot with his tongue. Her hands dug into his back, seeking purchase, and he made a low sound of approval that pulsed straight through her. The bond between them went white-hot, singing with want and the sharp edge of possibility.

Her own hands grew restless. She found the hem of his shirt, tugged it up, her fingers skating over warm skin, the hard lines of his muscles twitching under her touch. He stilled, only for a heartbeat, before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. She ran her palms up his torso, feeling the scar at his ribs—old, familiar, and somehow even more intimate than what they were doing now.

He smiled, a little wild, a little desperate, and pushed her hair back from her face, holding her there like she was the only thing that could anchor him. His mouth met hers with renewed hunger, but soon he was tracing lower—her jaw, her throat, his tongue flicking the pulse point as his hands mapped every inch of her. When he reached the hollow just above her collarbone, he paused, teeth grazing, a low growl of appreciation in his chest. Carolina’s head fell back, eyes fluttered closed; she was nothing but sensation, floating, falling.

He dropped to his knees, palms sliding down her sides to settle on the waistband of her leggings, then paused. She opened her eyes to find him looking up at her, wild and reverent.

“Still sure?” he rasped.

She nodded, heat flooding her, and he hooked his fingers under the fabric and eased it down—slow, careful. He pressed a kiss to the sharp jut of her hipbone, then another, lower, then drew her leggings all the way off along with her underwear. He looked at her for a heartbeat—really looked,as if memorizing the sight, the way she trembled, the flush blooming across her chest and down her stomach. She was suddenly shy beneath that gaze, but he shook his head—don’t, the gesture said, don’t look away, not here, not now.

He leaned in, breath ghosting across newly bared skin, and pressed his lips to the inside of her thigh, just above her knee. The softness of the kiss—unexpected, reverent—sent a shiver all the way up to her scalp. He moved higher with excruciating patience, leaving a trail of heat in his wake, pausing to mouth at the sensitive spot midway along her leg. Carolina’s breathing grew ragged, her hands finding his hair and tightening there, helpless, desperate for more.

He nosed gently at her other thigh, then shifted, and with a carefully measured touch, parted her legs further. For a moment he did nothing but look, and the intensity of itas if he were memorizing her. Then his hands returned, gliding up her thighs, parting them gently, reverently, and his mouth followed the path he’d set. He kissed her inner thigh, slow and lingering, as if he could calm the trembling there. But the tremor only deepened.

He brushed his lips higher, and when his tongue found her, she gasped, her knees threatening to give. He steadied her, strong arms wrapping behind her, holding her upright, possessing and protective all at once. His mouth was careful at first, slow, but the restraint fractured quickly, dissolving in the heat of her need and the press of his own. The bond surged, tightening, making Carolina feel every brush, every flick of his tongue, as if it were written into her bones.

She fisted her hands in his hair, not to guide him but to anchor herself. Her whole body felt too light, too desperate, the pleasure coiling up hernearly undid her. Then he leaned in and the first slow, careful press of his tongue made her hips stutter against his shoulders, all thought scattering.

He started gently—so gently, she almost wept at the restraint—licking a slow stripe, then circling, then pausing to savor the taste of her. Each flick and drag was deliberate, as if he was learning her by heart. The bond flared anew, so intense it was almost tangible, curling around her ribs like a second, deeper breath. Carolina couldn’t hold still; her hands clutched at his hair as he eased her open, his tongue stroking, his lips pulling at her until she was gasping, the edges of her vision going white. When he pressed two fingers inside her alongside his mouth, the stretch and the fullness made her knees buckle, her body clenching tight, trembling.

He groaned low and approving into her, and the vibration of it, the knowledge of whatspine in a trembling rush. Xander held her through it, never wavering, never letting her slip out of his grasp, even as her legs shook and her head lolled back against the post. She felt herself break open against him, the bond roaring, and then she was dissolving, molten and wild and utterly unguarded.

He drew it out, not relenting until she shuddered and pressed her palm to his shoulder in a wordless plea for mercy. Even then, he lingered, laying a line of slow kisses up her stomach, her ribs, the hollow between her breasts, his hands never leaving her skin. When he finally stood and claimed her mouth again, she tasted herself there, the ruin and the reverence. It was grounding, somehow—intimate in a way that made her dizzy.

She was still catching her breath when he pulled back, a wicked smile curving one side of his mouth.

“You’re—” she started, but the rest of the words wouldn’t come out as she was trying the catch her breath.