“Take my—”
“Yes, I know what you meant.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “I am nothing compared to you,” he said. “But in this and for the rest of my life, I shall do my very best for you.”
Her eyes widened, and he caught the shimmer of tears in them. “Is that a vow?” she asked.
“It is.”
Then he kissed her. And she opened herself to everything. Not just to what he did, but to his heart until it seemed hers beat in the same rhythm, the same breath, the same place as his own.
At that moment, all his worries and fears—and there were many—faded away.
Chapter Twenty-One
At last, LingXin could do everything she wanted with Zhi Hao. There was no turning back, and she gloried in the fact that finally, amazingly, she had taken her life and her lover in hand.
Quite literally.
While he devoted himself to kissing her, to thrusting into her mouth, dueling with her tongue and even teasing the roof of her mouth, she shed her top. It was a relief to get the coarse material off anyway. And when his hands trailed lower along her neck and sides, he abruptly froze.
“You bound your breasts? Why?”
“Li Fei thought it would be safer.”
He nodded, though his expression was troubled. “You took a huge risk,” he murmured. He hooked a finger underneath the tie and quickly unknotted it. Then he held the silken end of the wrap that bound her and shook his head. “I cannot think you are real. Perhaps you are truly the fox spirit come to tempt me away.”
She lifted her hands as if to surrender. “You are worth it, Zhi Hao. As am I.”
His eyes widened, and his breath seemed to stop.
She smiled. Had no one ever told him how special he was? She was glad she was the one who had seen his worth.
“But I haven’t passed—” he began.
“Enough doubt. Tonight, we celebrate us.” So saying, she lifted her arms and allowed him to unwind the binding.
She thought he would go quickly. Indeed, his hands were shaking with urgency. But he still pulled the fabric away in slow circles around her. He didn’t move except his hands, and she could do nothing but stand in the circle of his arms and let the fabric fall away.
By inches, it seemed, her breasts were released. And when she could take a deep breath again, his gaze slid to her chest before he reverently began to stroke her flesh.
“So beautiful,” he murmured as he tossed aside the silk so he could cup her with both hands.
She closed her eyes, feeling the size and the heat of his hands. “So good,” she murmured as she arched into his hold.
His hands began to shape her, and then he moved his thumbs across her nipples. His hold wasn’t tight. Indeed, she wanted more of him, more strength, but this gentle rub was maddeningly erotic. As if he touched the most fragile of things.
On it went while she tingled from his touch until finally, she could not stand it anymore. She gripped his face and kissed him hard, this time plunging her tongue into his mouth, demanding more from him.
Breaking from the kiss, he bent down and scooped her up. She thrilled as his muscles rippled against her body, but he was still wearing a shirt, and she wanted to feel his skin.
He carried her quickly to his bed. It wasn’t more than two steps, then he set her gently down. She was pulling at his shirt, barely restraining herself from ripping it off him. He chuckled as he straightened, stripping it off with swift movements.
Heaven, she loved looking at his body. In the flickering candlelight, he appeared more spirit than man. But then he stripped out of his pants, and she knew he was flesh.
His dragon sprung up thick and hard, and this time she wasn’t shy about touching it. He hissed as she wrapped her fingers around it, but his face showed bliss. Then she began to stroke it, slow even pulls while she watched his face.
Then she had an idea.
“My mother gave me the pillow book.”