His lips thinned slightly. “You wish to berate me for not telling you about the pact.”
“No. Well, yes, but I’ve moved past that,” I said as I kissed the cleft in his chin before leaning into his mouth, whispering on his lips, “I love you, Kristoff. I love you passionately, happily, wholly, wonderfully. I love you despite the fact that you didn’t tell me about the pact or share your concerns about Frederic. I love you even though you wouldn’t haven chosen me to be your Beloved.”
He started to protest. I put my fingers across his lips.
“I love you now, I’ll love you half an hour from now, and, assuming I really am immortal, I’ll love you a hundred years from now. Nothing will change that.”
He hesitated a moment before his arms went around me, pulling my hips close to his as his mouth took charge of the little nibbling kisses I was scattering along his lips. I gave myself up to the pleasure he stirred within me, but one part of me, one tiny part of my heart, wept at his hesitation.
I could feel the emotion in him, and knew it had to be regret that he couldn’t love me in return.
“Never say I would not have chosen you,” he murmured into my collarbone, his lips blazing a path that left me shivering with anticipation. “You are everything a Beloved should be.”
“Too much talking,” I said, touched by his sweetness, and aroused at the same time, gasping when he hit the spot behind my ear that always melted me. I yanked up the tail of his shirt, sliding my hands under the fluid material to stroke his equally silky skin.
He stopped for a moment to help me rid him of his shirt before his hands returned to yank off the T-shirt, his hands immediately returning to cup my now highly sensitized breasts. I bit the heavy muscles of his shoulder, licking away the sting . I’ve got no complaints about you, either. I’m another story, but you’re fine.
I do not find you anything but delectable- he started to say.
I know, I know. You like me. I appreciate that fact. But you’re so incredibly handsome, Kristoff. Women stop and look at you when you walk by. I know; I’ve seen them. I can’t help but feel that you deserve to be seen with someone who isn’t quite so pudgy. Not that I’m going to give you up, but I still can’t help but feel that way.
Now you have angered me, he said, and I could feel the truth behind the statement. I deserve you , woman. Now stop being insecure and tell me you love me again.
I love you-oh, dear God, yes, right there. I quivered for a moment in his arms as his mouth descended on a now bare breast, the sensation of his tongue and teeth and lips on such sensitive flesh radiating outward until I was one gigantic erogenous zone . I’m not insecure. I’m just a realist. Oh, and stop.
He pulled back, his eyes dark with passion, but also containing a distinctly wild look. Stop? Now? Right now? Or later, after we’re finished? I will stop later, if you like. Later is better.
I grinned and pointed to the bed. “Stop for a moment, Boo. Take off your pants and lie down.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to try to get the upper hand on me again, are you?”
“Oh, this hand is definitely upper,” I answered, raising my hand before pointing to the bed again. “And you owe me. You had it your own way in the Blue Lagoon, and now I get to have my turn.”
“You liked my way,” he pointed out, but shucked the remainder of his clothing.
“Of course I did. Didn’t you notice me walking funny? But now it’s your turn, and I intend to return the compliment. Bed, please. And close your eyes.”
He lay down on the bed, his arms behind his head, those lovely teal eyes of his now a glittering, rich indigo. He frowned as I started to slip out of the pants but then paused, glancing toward him.
“You’re not going to start that again, are you?”
“I’m not insecure, but I might have one teensy, tiny issue with being naked,” I told him, quickly removing the pants, but clutching them in front of me so he couldn’t see all the bulgy parts.
“That’s an understatement.”
“Fine, then. It won’t be nearly as much fun if you insist on keeping your eyes open, but have it your way. Turn off the light.”
“No.”
“Kristoff-” I started to say, but he interrupted me, sitting up on the bed.
“I want to see you.”
“And I don’t want you to see me. There’s far too much to be seen, and frankly, I’d rather not spend the rest of eternity dieting because you want to stand around and look at my pudge.”