The Matters Of Love

Salviana moved first.

She pressed a hand against Alaric's chest — solid, warm, his heartbeat a steady thrum beneath her palm. Then, she tilted her head and kissed him.

It wasn't a soft, hesitant kiss. It was fierce. Hungry.

A clash of lips and heat, her mouth molding against his with a boldness that surprised even her. Alaric responded instantly, his hand threading into her hair, his grip firm but not rough. The kiss deepened — hot, urgent, tasting of longing and something darker. He leaned into her, his weight pushing her back against the pillows as his hand traveled down her waist, his fingers burning through the thin fabric of her nightgown.

Salviana's heart thundered, her body arching into him, silently begging for more. This was it. This was the moment — their marriage, unfulfilled, hanging over them like a delicate thread. It had to happen now. She needed it. She needed him.

But suddenly, Alaric broke the kiss.