Page 16 of Promised to the Heir

His touch gentles immediately, the earlier tension melting away as his gaze searches mine. There’s nothing sharp in it now. Only concern. Focus. Like I’m the only thing in the world that matters in this moment.

“Hey…” His breath ghosts over my lips, warm, close enough to feel the shape of the word.

His thumbs sweep again, slower this time, catching the moisture at the corners of my eyes. I feel the warmth of his skin, the slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he lingers like he’s afraid to miss something.

“I’m okay,” I manage, though my voice comes out thinner than I intend.

His mouth tightens. He shifts, careful with it this time, changing the angle just enough that the strain eases, but he doesn’t withdraw.

“Talk to me,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on mine, his hands steady where they hold my face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I guess—” I let out a small, shaky breath— “I guess, I didn’t want to make it bigger than it is. And it would have hurt anyway,” I say, forcing a faint smile that doesn’t quite hold. “I just… didn’t want to make it a whole thing.”

His expression changes again. He holds my gaze, then looks over my face like he’s taking stock of every detail, his thumb tracing along my cheekbone, the movement slowing until I feel each pass of his skin against mine.

“You don’t have to hide things from me,” he says quietly.

Something in my chest loosens at that, the tightness easing just enough that I can breathe a little deeper.

Before I can answer, his mouth brushes mine, light and warm, lingering there like he’s giving me space to pull away.

I don’t.

His lips press again, firmer this time, and the kiss deepens by degrees, unhurried, each shift of his mouth drawing me in until I forget the ache for a second and focus on the heat of him, the taste of him, the way he stays right there with me instead of taking more than I can give. His mouth moves against mine, heat building with each pass of his lips. I catch the faint taste of something he drank earlier, mixed with the warmth of him, and it pulls me in closer without thinking.

I feel his breath at the corner of my mouth, and feel the way he shifts to deepen the kiss by degrees instead of taking it all at once. It’s careful. Attentive. Like he’s listening to every small reaction in my body.

My hands loosen from the sheets.

Slide up.

Find his shoulders.

The tightness in my chest eases under his mouth, loosening little by little as he keeps kissing me. The sting doesn’t vanish, but it fades into the background, no longer the only thing I can feel as a slow heat begins to gather low in my belly. A faint, unfamiliar tingling threads through the ache. It makes me draw in a deeper breath this time, one that actually fills my lungs. My body shifts without me fully deciding to move, hips tilting just slightly beneath him.

I shift beneath him, just enough to feel what changes.

The movement sends a different pull through me, less sharp this time, spreading instead of cutting.

My lips part under his, and I lean into the kiss, chasing that warmth, that slow-building heat rising where the sting used to sit.

Without thinking, I move again, a small roll of my hips.

Jeremy stills.

It’s brief, but I feel it—every muscle in him going quiet as he registers it. He lifts his head just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm and uneven where it mixes with mine.

His eyes search my face, then his mouth curves, the tension easing out of it as fine lines crease at the corners of his eyes.

“Something you want?” he murmurs.

“I think I need you to move.” I wiggle my hips again. “Oh, yes. Move.”

He huffs out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but it catches somewhere low in his chest as he watches me.

“Yeah?” His voice brushes over my lips, rougher now.

I move again, not thinking about it this time, just following that pull building inside me. The shift sends a ripple through me, not sharp anymore, but deeper, spreading in a way that makes my breath hitch. My fingers tighten on his shoulders, holding on as I tilt my hips, searching without knowing exactly for what.