Page 107 of Wedded Witch
My pulse races, my breath coming faster, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze, the fire in his eyes reflecting the burn in my chest. We’re on the edge of something explosive, something that we can’t ignore or resist.
This moment feels monumental.
I arch against him, my body responding to every touch, every press of his lips, every whispered promise. His hands slide under my shirt, warm against my skin, and I shiver at the contact.
There’s nothing hurried or frantic about the way he touches me. Every movement is deliberate, like he’s savouring this, savouring me. And it makes my heart pound harder, because I know this isn’t just about the physical—it’s about trust, about surrendering to each other fully for the first time.
I close my eyes as he leans down to kiss my neck, his breath hot and teasing. The weight of him, the feel of him—it’s everything I didn’t know I needed.
My hands find their way into his light blond hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
Oland’s lips glide slowly down my neck, each kiss like a gentle caress that ignites my skin. He lingers at my collarbone, his breath warm and tantalising against me, making my heart race with a heady mix of anticipation and desire.
His hands roam my body, fingers tracing the curves and contours with a reverence that makes my chest ache. It’s a tender exploration, unexpected yet desperately craved.
Pulling back just enough to lock his gaze onto mine, I can see the restraint battling within him—an intoxicating mix of longing and control.
He’s holding back, waiting for me to take the lead, as if he wants to memorise every detail of this moment, every flicker of my desire.
His thumb brushes across my cheek, igniting a shiver that cascades down my spine, lighting a flame deep within me.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, not just desire but something deeper. “From the moment I saw you in that defiant black gown, even when I had no right wanting you.”
There’s a rawness to his confession that reverberates through me, reminding me that this has always been about us, a connection we’ve both yearned for.
“Why do you think you had no right wanting me?” I challenge softly, my breath hitching in my throat.
“Swyn,” he groans, his voice a low rumble that sends tremors through me. “I’m sixteen years older than you. You’d be better suited to my brothers.”
“Fate disagrees,” I reply, my heart pounding as I lean in closer. “I wanted you too. You were the first guy who set my heart racing. Then I met your brothers, and it all makes sense now.”
With a boldness I didn’t know I possessed, I reach up, cupping his face in my hands, pulling him back down to me. Our lips meet again—this time softer, but laced with urgency.
Each press of our lips feels like a promise, like we’re making up for every second we’ve been apart, every moment of uncertainty that’s ever come between us.
Oland’s hands slide lower, his touch firm yet gentle, and the heat between us builds, but it’s not a desperate kind of heat. It’s the slow burn of anticipation, the kind that makes my heart race and my body ache for more.
He’s taking his time, and I let him. I want him to. I’ve waited forever for a love like this.
My eyes snap open.
Uh-oh. Did I just use the ‘L-word’?
His lips brush against my ear, his voice a low murmur that sends chills racing down my spine.
“You’re everything, Swyn. You always have been.”
A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, and a lump forms in my throat. It’s the way he looks at me that makes me feel cherished, like I’m more than just a means to an end.
Like I’mhis. And I realise that’s what I want: to be his. To be theirs.
I tilt my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, and he takes the invitation. His lips find my skin again, slow and deliberate, igniting a thrill that races through my body.
His fingers curl around the hem of my shirt, pausing to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nod, and he lifts it over my head, his gaze never leaving mine.
There’s something intimate in the way he watches me, making me feel vulnerable but safe, as if I’m unveiling a part of myself just for him.
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder, and I feel his hands on me again, exploring with a tenderness that leaves me breathless. I let myself get lost in him, surrendering to this moment, this connection.