Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled his other hand away from the cross and toyed with his signet ring. “If you have changed your mind—if you want to leave after everything I’ve—”
“Leave? Change my mind?” She lifted her hands and cupped his face. Stroking his cheeks, her velvety brown eyes bearing into his own, she said, “Everything you’ve told me only solidifies my love for you. You are the bravest... the most caring, the strongest man I’ve ever known.” A small, teasing smile quirked her lips. “Well, second only to my father.”
“Naturally, ma belle.”
Her smile grew. She scooted forward and drew him into a searing kiss. Breathing the words inside his mouth, tears running down her cheeks, she went on, “This is my home now. I love you, Prince Adam Delacroix—heart, body, and soul. Wherever you go, that is my home.”
Chapter Twenty
Adam felt like he was floating through a beautiful, lucid dream. Isabelle’s hand rested in his own, her slender, pale fingers entwining with his in a poignant touch.
He glanced down at her hand, admiring how it fit so perfectly in his much larger one. Indeed, he couldn’t help but feel like she’d been created for him—a flawless foil to his darkness. He held tighter to her palm and fingers, overwhelmed with emotion—afraid this was nothing more than a dream and he’d soon awake.
She followed him down the East Tower’s winding stairwell, a small smile tugging at her lips. He clasped a lantern in midair, casting a ring of light that punctured the castle’s endless black belly.
They seemed to travel for a lifetime, and the dark halls and rooms drifted by without his notice. He was completely transfixed. Breathless. Caught in a powerful enchantment. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Isabelle; her beauty consumed him, swam through his very veins. She was breathtaking, a true flesh-and-blood angel. His passion intensified at the way the diamond tiara drank in the moonbeams and came to life with a brilliant sparkle. The billowing, cornflower silks of her gown trailed across the dark floor; the hem caressed the stones like a lover’s intimate embrace and emitted a soft swishing noise. Isabelle’s rich, velvety gaze remained fixed on his face with each step, and an enticing blush brightened her creamy cheeks.
Anxiety and anticipation clamored inside him, and his gut quivered. Yet on the outside, he held himself up with a confidence he didn’t feel.
Finally he hesitated outside his bedchamber and turned to Isabelle. The lantern bathed her features in a warm light and underlined the riot of emotions in her eyes. She was as nervous as he was; he saw it in her gaze, felt it in her trembling fingertips and the ragged wafts of her breaths.
“Isabelle... you can still change your mind. Because once we enter my chamber, once we cross that threshold, I fear I won’t be able to let you go again.”
“Good,” she replied without hesitation, drawing nearer, her breath a soft breeze against his face. Willing his heart to quit pounding, he inhaled the intoxicating aromas of her hair and skin, allowing her essence to wash over him, to fill his soul and help satiate his hunger. To cleanse him. “I don’t want you to let me go. I want you to bring me closer.” She edged nearer still; light from the lantern shifted against the peeling damask wallcovering as his hand shook in midair. Get a hold of yourself. You’re a grown man. “And I’ve never felt so free,” she went on, her voice a sensual and heartfelt waterfall that he felt against his cheeks, “not since I was a young girl traveling the countryside with my father. You are my freedom, Adam.”
“And you are mine. I’d give you the whole world, ma belle, if only such a gift were in my power.”
A wry smile curved her rosebud lips. “The whole world had laid at my feet—or at least its superficialities.” Those beautiful eyes darkened, and she seemed to peer inward. Silently she shook her head and seized his gaze again. Her fingertips clasped either side of his face. Adam’s stare swept over the smattering of freckles across her nose and the long wings of her dark lashes. “I don’t desire the whole world. I don’t care about pretty dresses, glittering jewels, or fancy balls. I’ve never wanted any of that. Just true love. Just you. Just us.”
True love.
Heat coiled in his body and settled down below. She swept past him, a flush brightening her cheeks as she opened the door to his private chamber. Adam placed the lantern on his mirrorless vanity as Isabelle strolled in after him. He lit a branch of candles, imbuing the room with a soft, alluring glow. Moonbeams slanted through his window, mating with the candlelight and casting golden rings in the chamber. Together, they bathed Isabelle’s dark curls and the dress’s cornflower silks like a diva’s spotlight.
Adam stepped toward her, his feet moving of their own accord, the cloak swishing around his ankles. He gently laid his hand upon her shoulder and exhaled a taut breath. She softened beneath his touch as her eyes fixed on the formidable bed lurking before them. Its four posters reached into the darkness with the force of groping arms. Dust motes floated in midair, the intimate candlelight transforming the debris into twinkling fairies.
“You showed me kindness,” she whispered, her stare flitting across his chamber—the carved and mirrorless vanity, the crimson coverlet, the mahogany writing desk and a pile of books of every genre. Her eyes skimmed over their aged spines and faded covers with appreciation. “You cared for me in my hour of darkness, in this very room...” Her words trailed off. Mutely she shook her head, then turned her gaze back to his own. “And I called you a monster. I... I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself.”
Adam couldn’t suppress his chuckle. He wheeled behind her without thought, molding his much larger body to her warm curves. The lace and satins of her dress fluttered enticingly against him and audibly rustled. One of his hands entwined in her long curls; the other hand carefully removed the tiara from her hair. He slipped it free of those luscious locks, then placed it on the vanity. His heart in his throat, he dragged a lush section of hair over one shoulder, watching as the spirals grazed her slim back in a delectable chocolate waterfall. He idly combed his fingers through the curls, relishing how they slipped through them like fresh-spun silk.
“I was precisely that. A monster. A beast. I had no right to keep you here with me or to demand your freedom. I’ve done things I don’t expect forgiveness for, Isabelle. But being with you... It makes me yearn to be a greater man.”
Isabelle smiled, rotating in his arms. He dipped into her tentative, healing touch as she trailed her fingertips over the blemished side of his face. He watched in silent reverence while tears formed in the corners of her eyes, listened as her voice quavered with empathy and compassion.
Compassion for him.
“And who has been here for you in your hours of darkness?”
Sébastien came to mind. He had been his sole link to the outside world—maybe even a companion. But he hadn’t given Adam what he truly needed, the thing he’d craved for so many years with every beat of his bruised heart.
“You have been here for me,” he finally replied. His gaze darted to the tiara, whose diamonds glittered like stars within the dim chamber. His heart racing again, he brought his knuckles against her cheek in a shy caress and traced the curve of her chin.
Their stares connected with a force that flattened him.
Adam couldn’t move. He could barely draw breaths. Held captive by the enchantment of her hazel eyes, he was powerless, overwhelmed with emotion and mounting anticipation. Quite suddenly, he felt like a green lad—the wide-eyed, ignorant prince he’d once been. His heart banged against his ribs and nerves swelled his belly; it felt like a swarm of butterflies had been released and were tickling his stomach with their lacy wings.
As if she could read his thoughts, an endearing blush rose on Isabelle’s cheeks. Demurely she lowered her gaze and stared at the intricate parquet flooring. They were both out of their element.
But when Adam met her eyes again, his anxieties melted away. A soul-searing passion took their place, infusing his mind and body with a new confidence.
Silence took command. Adam dared not even breathe as he anticipated her next move. Her tiny, slender hand slid down his neck and grabbed his bicep. She drew him toward the canopied bed; her steps took on a renewed purpose, her eyes set aglow with a light he’d never witnessed before.
Ever so carefully, she guided him onto the mattress as a hesitant smile spread across her lips. “Let me be here for you now, tonight.” Her hands rested on either side of his face, and she drew him into a drugging, hypnotic kiss. Her fingers shook against his skin, and her entire body grew stiff. Adam allowed primal instinct to take command. His hands lifted from the mattress and landed on the luscious curves of her hips.
The voluptuous, thick folds of the gown swished against his palm, whooshing through his fingers and rustling in the hushed din. He unconsciously stroked the fine materials, felt as the damask details and laces slid under his palms. He filled her sweet mouth with his tongue, exploring the heat and gently nipping at her bottom lip. His hands moved on their own, sliding down her hips and around her body to rest on the curve of her backside. He reeled her closer still, urging her warmth flush against his hardening body.
He’d never felt more alive, more like a flesh-and-blood man.
“Are you still frightened?” he asked in a hoarse voice, suggestively trailing his fingers up and down her slim back, feeling as the silk fabric glided beneath his restless palms. “Does this frighten you?” He knew she’d suffered great pain and degradation at the vicomte’s hands; he prayed she was ready—but he’d sooner wait an entire lifetime before causing her any more discomfort.
“No. Not when it’s your hands,” she said, drawing him into another soul-searing kiss. She countered the movements of his lips, mouth, and tongue, engaging him in an erotic waltz, a delectable feast of the senses that sent his mind and heart reeling with pleasure. “Not when it’s your lips, your gentle touches... your beautiful voice in my ear.”
I don’t know what I’m doing...
And so he allowed a primitive instinct to guide him; his adoration and passion for Isabelle steered his hands and mouth, directing his every move, his every thought. He enclosed her face with his palms, tipped his head, and parted her soft lips again. She tasted sweeter than honey from the comb. His tongue dipped inside her mouth and stole a sensual whimper from the depths of her throat.
Gently he suckled on her bottom lip and dipped past the wet seam. He searched the intimate cavern of her mouth and ran his tongue over her smooth teeth and lips swollen from his kisses. “Not when it’s you, my Adam,” she breathed between their deep kisses, her voice growing throatier with each passing second.
They were both starved, feasting off each other with equal fervor.
Adam slipped a single fingertip along the length of her spine—up, up, up—all the way to the base of her neck. His palm coiled around the delicate shaft while her mouth moved in sync with his own. She moaned and rocked her hips against him, returning that age-old dance with a heated intensity.
His heart gave a quick somersault, spun by the sweet sounds that fluttered from her throat and swelled the room. The sputtering candles and whistling wind added to the ambiance and heightened his senses.
Seconds transformed into minutes, and both Adam and Isabelle were left entirely spent and breathless.
Her cheekbones turned rosy while her lips darkened to a sensuous red. Defeated and at her mercy, he curved his neck until their foreheads joined together in a tentative touch.
Resting his temple against her own, his ragged breaths vibrating his entire body, he murmured, “This is new for me, too.” He was so lost in Isabelle—he barely perceived his own whisper. “Together, we shall learn. Together...”
Anticipation burned through him like a fire, a need such as he had never known. He feared this was all a dream—one he sorely didn’t want to end.
“Together...” Isabelle echoed the word, almost in a trance. Then her small, fair hands rose from her sides to cup his sweat-lined face. “Always together...”
Everything shifted. Isabelle felt as Adam’s resolve slipped away; all-consuming longing replaced it... a molten desire that would not be denied.
The way he looked at her, his stare overflowing with desire and appreciation... it set something wild and fearless free inside.
Adam shot forward, embraced her waist, and crushed her body to his own in a possessive, unyielding grasp. The lush fabrics of her dress bunched between their bodies and ruptured the ambiance with a swishing noise. She gasped aloud as a great whoosh of air vacated her lungs at the sudden impact. His lips descended on her throat in a movement he seemed unable to control. His tongue teased her pulse, swept up and down her throbbing throat, and traced the fine architecture of her collarbone. Meanwhile, his masterful hands worked the ties of her dress with a new urgency.
Cool air nipped at her nape and back as he parted the back of her dress. The uneven texture of his lips ground against her flesh. She attempted to move away a centimeter or two—but his grasp possessively tightened... Strong, marred hands slid up and down her back and clasped her in a protective embrace.
“I shall never hurt you, Isabelle,” he murmured between kisses. “I would sooner hurt myself.”
Her neck grew limp, and her eyes drew shut in ecstasy. His delectable scents—pine and winter—swirled in the air and washed over her senses.
“I know, Adam Delacroix. I trust you...” Her voice sounded distant, like her soul had detached from her body and loomed several kilometers away.
Cool fingers traced her jaw, soothing, stroking, and turning her toward his lips. She shuddered as he moved his hot mouth down the column of her throat and teased her pulse with his tongue.
“Keep speaking, Adam,” she moaned, her words laced with a mounting desire. “Your voice is an instrument of pleasure.”
His husky vocals resonated against her flushed skin as he spoke, setting fire to her very soul. “You have opened my eyes. For so long, I had closed them to the world, shutting myself inside an impenetrable prison. A prison that was built from guilt and despair...” His lips moved over her covered chest, dampening the fine damask fabric to her flushed skin. His tongue darted out from his lips and traced over her veiled nipple. She felt hot, her breasts heavy and aching. “You tore down those walls, Isabelle... allowed me to see again... allowed me to feel... You are my light, my love, my life.”
Suddenly she wanted this man more than she’d ever wanted anything else. She wanted his body, his spirit, his healing touches, and reassuring words. She wanted his playful side, his transitory smile, and those skillful musician’s hands.
He pushed the dress down her body in an urgent movement; it fell to her feet, landing around her ankles in a cloud of billowed silk and lace. Adam’s breaths shortened while his eyes roamed over her chemise—the final barrier that shielded her. Desire and an unmasked longing deepened his penetrating stare. She felt his passion echo inside her.
Carefully she stepped out of the fabric and worked on his coat buttons. Frantically she slid them through the eyeholes, her fingers trembling in midair. The buttons clashed and sparkled against the navy fabric as the candlelight set them aglow.
Her breaths coming fast and hard, she brushed the handsome material aside and urged it from his broad shoulders. It joined her gown on the floor, forming an ever-growing heap of garments. His crème-colored shirtsleeves came next; she swished the silky fabric aside, watching as the muscles of his throat undulated, contracted, grew taut. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his throat, relishing the feel of his thundering pulse against her lips. Then she moved back again and drank her fill.
Her breath hitched at the sight of his muscular, burned torso. His body wielded a raw, corded strength. The intricate valleys and puckered, leather-like flesh hit her hard. She inhaled a steadying breath before pressing her lips against a raised ridge—making her love unmistakable. His heart thundered below her mouth, str
ong and sure. When she gazed up at him, his sapphire eyes shimmered with a storm of unshed tears.
“To think you have suffered so...” Emotions constricted her words into silence.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, stroking her skin with his thumb and forefinger in a mesmerizing touch. “Being here with you, Isabelle... It feels like everything in my life has led to this moment—to you. All of my losses and heartaches. Everything. They have all shown me you—the light of my life. And for that, I can regret nothing.”
My beautiful, dear Adam. My prince...
Isabelle’s eyes misted over with shared tears. She tried to speak—but emotion constricted the words and dried her throat. She silently lifted her head, aligning it with his own, and set her palm on the center of his scarred chest. She caressed his skin, feeling the web of elevated ridges and irregular flesh below her palm. A shudder raked through his body and vibrated against her fingertips as she traced his sternum.
“My Isabelle...” He swooped forward and claimed her mouth in a sweltering kiss. Passion made up for all inexperience. His hands cupped either side of her face, the rough skin of his palms tickling her neck and chin in an invigorating caress.
Their mouths momentarily broke apart. She felt the hot rush of his breaths against her neck. Candlelight illuminating his scarred arms and torso, he reached forward and took her hand, enveloping it completely. Time seemed to stand still. Her heart thundered as she felt herself falling backward. The sensation left her breathless. She seemed to float through time and space, as if she were disconnected from her body and only her spirit remained.
In an instant, he was right beside her, naked from the waist up and staring down, his eyes glazed with poignant emotion. Lush sheepskin and silk surrounded her like clouds. She withered against the luxurious fabrics as a painful longing surged through her body. Indeed, her desire for Adam rushed from her mind, down to her aching breasts, and to the tips of her naked toes, settling in her most intimate place. Her womanhood grew hot and wet, soaking through the pantalettes.
Beauty of the Beast (Fairy Tale Retellings Book 1) Page 28