He took her face in both his hands. “Nothing, absolutely nothing, is wrong with you, heart.” He said it for the second time, and it directly contradicted everything she had ever thought about herself.
She went on her toes and kissed him. It was clumsy and too forceful and caught him by surprise. She fell on her heels, wondering why in the world she’d done that, but she didn’t wonder for long.
Hands still pressed to her face, he ducked and parted her lips with his own, kissing her like she might be leaving, like he might never get to do it again. His tongue swept across the roof of her mouth, and she groaned. This was impossible—it was impossible to feel this good.
She was a burning flame, and there were too many clothes, too many layers between them. She had always been told that her body didn’t belong to her, it belonged to the realm, but no, right now she wanted to feel everything that was possible. She wanted Grim to show her.
“I want you,” she said, breaking their kiss, breathing too quickly. “I want everything.”
Grim looked like he might be losing his mind. Like he couldn’t have possibly heard her correctly. His chest was heaving. He blinked. Again. Said, “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, and she meant it more than she had ever meant anything else.
Grim swallowed. “I’m not gentle,” he said gruffly.
Isla opened her mouth. Closed it. The thought of him not being gentle . . . it unexplainably made her feel hot everywhere.
“Could—could you be?”
He hesitated. Then nodded.
The way he carried her to the bed . . . it was as if she were made of glass. He laid her on her sheets like she was mist and might just slip away if he wasn’t careful. Isla’s eyes darted to the closed door.
“We’re hidden,” he said. And Isla had never been so grateful for his illusions.
He was over her now, completely clothed. No. She didn’t want anything between them.
She yanked his shirt up, and it didn’t move at all. But Grim reached back and tore it over his head in one smooth movement, making his shoulders flex, and Isla couldn’t see enough of his body, couldn’t touch enough.
“You are perfect,” she said, and she couldn’t believe the thought had reached her lips. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know someone could look like this. It’s unfair, really.”
Grim only laughed. “You’re doing very little to discourage my magnificent ego.”
Her hands stroked down his hard chest. He radiated pure power, strength. She traced the scar just half an inch from his heart, and his eyes fell closed for a long moment. She could have sworn he shivered. The shadows in her room melted across the floor, puddling.
His gaze locked on her chest, prickled with need, aching like every part of her, and the silk of her dress did nothing to hide it. His hands went to the bodice, to rip it like before, and Isla made a sound of protest. “Demon,” she said. “I’m not going to have any dresses left if you keep destroying them.”
“I’ll buy you new ones. I’ll buy you a market. I’ll get you your own tailor.”
“Fine,” she said, and the dress didn’t stand a chance. It was ribbons in a second, and then his mouth was on her chest. He bit her, lightly, and she made a rasping noise, her back arching.
His hand trailed down her stomach, below her underthings, and when he touched her, he cursed. “Isla,” he said against her chest, “you are truly going to kill me.”
“I will,” she said, “if you don’t keep touching me.”
She was burning, aching, desperate for more.
“Please,” she said. “I want everything.”
Grim took the rest of his clothes off, and Isla went still. She had felt him before, but now . . .
He climbed over her again, his hips settling between her legs, and her breath hiked. He pressed his lips against her shoulder, her chest, her neck, her cheek. “I think you’ll find we fit perfectly,” he said, as if reading her thoughts.
Then he looked at her and asked one final time. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said, and he reached down between them.
For a while, there were just their shared breaths, his forehead pressed against hers. He was leaning on his arms, holding himself over her, shaking slightly as he exercised every ounce of control.
At first, there were flashes of pain. She winced, and Grim always stopped. Always waited for her to tell him to go farther.
He went farther. And farther. Farther.
Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she breathed through it as her body got used to him. He was gentle, so gentle, fisting the sheets in his hands, cursing words into the place between her neck and shoulder.
Suddenly, it all seemed to go so much easier. Suddenly . . . Isla’s head was falling back as she groaned, and Grim was making a sound like a growl. His arm curled below her spine, and he hauled her fully against his chest. Her legs locked behind him.
Isla saw stars, gasped his name, said all sorts of ridiculous things, and then she was whimpering, because she had never felt this good, this close to the stars—
She pressed her cheek against the sheets, and he kissed up the length of her neck, until he gently turned her head, fingers curled around the back of her neck, until their eyes locked. He seemed fixated on her every expression, the way she drew breath when he reached down to raise her hips higher, the way she bit her lip to keep from making more noise.
He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth and kissed her.
She cried out against his lips as she shattered, and Grim kept going, and going, until he joined her over the edge.
For minutes, he just held her, tightly, as if someone might take her from him. Then, he rose to look at her face, emotions battling across his own. Unexpected ones. She wanted to tip his mind over and play with the contents.
“Hearteater.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “You are both curse . . .” he whispered against her skin, lips traveling down her neck, to the center of her chest, “。 . . and cure.”
After the first time, she didn’t want to stop. It was as if an entirely new world had been opened, and she wanted to explore every inch of it.
Hours later, she woke up sprawled on top of Grim. Her cheek was against his chest. One of his arms was wrapped around her, the other was hanging off the bed.
The things they had done in this bed . . .
She lifted her head, to look at him, and found him already awake. He met her eyes and smiled.
Smiled.
She had never seen him smile, not like that.
“You have a dimple,” Isla said in disbelief. It made him look boyish, and adorable, and she couldn’t believe it.
“Do I?” he said.
He didn’t even know.
She crawled up his chest, to rest her chin on her arms, right below his face. She just looked at him, up through her lashes.
Suddenly, something occurred to her. He had told her Nightshades didn’t keep the same partner for long. Soon, would he leave her? Would he forget her, like the rest?
Grim sat up. “What’s wrong?” he asked, expression filled with worry.
“You—you aren’t going to disappear, right? Now that we . . . now that we—”
He laughed. He folded over, shoulders shaking with it. She pinched him below the ribs, and he kept laughing. “Hearteater,” he finally said, breathless. “I said Nightshade rulers are typically forbidden from bedding the same person more than once. Last night alone . . .”