Now, for Zacharel. He needed her, and she needed him. They both needed to forget what had happened, what would happen, if only for a little while.
The hinges on the door squeaked as she emerged from the bathroom. Cool air kissed her bare skin, spreading goose bumps along her arms and legs.
Zacharel sat at the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his knees, his head bent. His wings were spread out, a wealth of gold now without any hint of white. Or snow, she realized. Once again, he’d stopped snowing.
“According to our bargain, I’m supposed to kiss you anytime the urge hits me, and you’re supposed to accept. Right?”
His gaze snapped up. He’d dried his face, but he couldn’t mask the glassiness of those emerald eyes. “Annabelle,” he said on a rumbling breath, looking her over. “After everything that’s happened, you cannot mean—”
“I do.” Slowly she walked to him. When she stood between his legs, she placed her hands on his shoulders. His muscles were knotted. His gaze moved to hers, as if he couldn’t trust himself to continue peering at the rest of her.
“I want to be with you,” she said. She frowned as a thought hit her. “Unless you’re not allowed to be with a woman melded to a—” Her lips pressed together in a thin line. She didn’t want to think the words, and she didn’t want to say them. “It’s okay if you can’t. I’ll just—”
In a rush of motion, Zacharel had his arms around her, and her feet kicked out from under her. She tumbled forward, and he positioned her in his lap. For balance, she had to straddle his thighs.
“You are mine,” he rasped. “Only ever mine. I accept all that you are, and we can be together.”
Relief poured through her, a beautiful waterfall. “I’ll make you so happy you said that, Winged Wonder.” Very gently, she pressed her lips into his, a soft melding, a gentle exploration.
“You forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.”
“Thank you, Anna. Thank you. And I know, the words are not enough. I will show you how I feel. Let me show you.”
She opened her mouth, and he rolled his tongue against her. His decadent flavor instantly consumed her; he was the finest aged wine, strawberries dipped in the richest chocolate, and as fresh as a newly sprung river.
The kiss remained tender and sweet—until he reclined on the mattress and his hands began to roam. The intimate contact ignited embers of sensation throughout her entire body. Their tongues dueled with more force, their lips pressed with more fervor, and they drank and drank and drank of each other.
He laved her breasts, explored her belly, kissed every inch of her legs until she was writhing. Until he was writhing. Until they were both desperate. Then he turned her over and laved her upper back, explored her lower back, and once again kissed every inch of her legs.
When she could stand no more, the pleasure too much, she pulled his robe from him and urged him to lie down on his back—and she took over. She laved and explored and kissed him. And oh, the taste of his skin… It was as rapturous as his kiss. The sweetest of candies, drugging, addictive…and she knew she would crave this for the rest of her life.
“Anna, I need…”
“More, always more.” Was that slurred voice hers?
“Yes.”
Yes. A word filled with hope. “Take it, then.”
He cupped under her arms, drew her up, parallel to his strong length, and rolled her over. He settled over her, pinned her.
“I want to take, as you said, but I need another kiss first.” He lowered his head and she lifted hers, and then their tongues were thrusting together.