Chapter 52

Kennard’s breath hitched at the sound of her voice, finally breaking the silence. 

“Will you let me go?” Elena’s voice trembled with desperation.

He had no intention of letting her go. His hands remained cupped around her face, his head tilted up slightly. His gaze, deep and intense, sank into the darkness of her eyes.

The warmth that once radiated from him, like a dying flame, flickered and vanished, replaced by a cold aura that sent shivers down her spine.

Elena couldn’t tear her eyes away. It wasn’t just the physical constraint of his large hands holding her face. It felt as though some invisible force held her captive to his gaze.

“…I can’t do that,” Kennard finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. His firmly set lips parted slowly, revealing his first words. “Even if you can’t be mine, I have no intention of letting you go.”

There was a raw honesty in his gaze, an absence of deceit. Elena knew. If she tried to leave again, he wouldn’t forgive her easily. Yet, the fear that had once gripped her was gone. Instead, his possessive words, though unsettling, brought a strange sense of relief.

When she repeated her question about leaving, it wasn’t out of fear, but a desire for a definitive answer. She craved the words she longed to hear: that she didn’t have to run, that he needed her by his side.

Elena’s hand rose, gently covering Kennard’s on her face. A surprised twitch ran through his fingers as she turned her head and pressed a kiss to his palm.

“What does that mean?” Kennard’s voice was laced with uncertainty.

Elena met his gaze, lifting her head slowly. “It means I’m yours,” she declared.

A flicker of suspicion crossed Kennard’s face. “This isn’t some elaborate escape plan while I’m off guard, is it?”

“No,” she replied, her voice firm as she squeezed his hand. “As long as you won’t leave me, I won’t leave you either.” Elena yearned for him to believe her, even a sliver of doubt to vanish in the face of her sincerity.

A choked gasp escaped Kennard’s lips before he devoured her mouth in a kiss, as if intent on consuming her whole. The whirlwind of his touch left her breathless. Her eyelids fluttered shut instinctively, the heat of his body igniting a spark that ran down her spine. A rough hand cupped her back, sending shivers cascading over her skin. Her head tilted back as he pulled her closer, her toes rising unconsciously as she surrendered to the relentless assault of his kisses.

Fierce yet tender, they continued in a relentless dance. Each kiss stole her breath, leaving her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Was it fear, or something entirely different? 

Kennard’s tongue explored her mouth, its movements sending shivers down her spine. Her breath hitched, vision blurring as a delicious pressure built within her. A hardness pressed against her stomach, sending a jolt through her.

Instinctively, she attempted to retreat, but Kennard’s grip tightened, drawing her closer. His breaths grew heavier, rawer than hers, like a predator closing in on its prey.

A sharp bite on her lower lip, followed by a deep suck, sent a jolt through Elena. Before she could react, his tongue was back, delving deeper, their moans and the wet sounds of their kiss filling the space between them.

The taste of mingled saliva, the frantic rhythm of their breaths, overwhelmed her senses.

“Your Grace,” she gasped, vision swirling white at the edges. “I… can’t breathe…”

Desperation clawed at her. With a jerk of her head, she managed to turn her face, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

Catching a precious breath during the break in his kiss, Elena flinched. “Your lips…” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, “so sweet.” Before she could respond, he wasted no time, his tongue delving back into her mouth.

A startled shiver ran through Elena as a soft groan escaped her lips. Kennard nipped at her earlobe, then drew it into his mouth with a gentle suck before his tongue traced a path inside.

“Ah, Your Grace,” she breathed, “that feels… strange.” The tingling sensation that erupted from her ear and danced down her spine elicited an involuntary moan. A deeper throb pulsed from her core, radiating outward until it consumed her entire being.

She tried to turn away from his insistent lips, but Kennard followed, a relentless pursuer. “Don’t shy away,” he murmured, his voice husky. His lips, having traveled down from her earlobe, trailed fire across her jawline, then dipped to explore the sensitive hollow of her neck. A lick at the junction of her neck and shoulder sent shivers skittering down her spine. With practiced ease, he slipped the straps of her robe off her shoulders, the garment pooling at her feet with a single rustle.

Suddenly, Kennard stepped back, leaving Elena with a jolt of emptiness in his wake. Before she could question the shift, she realized he was appraising her from head to toe, his heated gaze a tangible presence that seemed to devour her. The sheer chemise clung to her curves, revealing her silhouette in stark detail. Even in the dimness, the firelight cast an undeniable glow, illuminating her form. Self-consciously, she brought her hands up to shield her chest and lower body, a blush creeping up her neck as she averted her gaze.

“Don’t cover yourself,” Kennard’s voice rumbled, deeper and huskier than usual. Elena shook her head.

“Elena, look at me,” he commanded softly, his words laced with a hint of urgency. Hesitation flickered across her face, then slowly, she met his gaze.

Kennard, his eyes locked on hers, began to undress. He pulled his shirt from his trousers with a practiced ease, the fabric whispering as he swapped arms. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted the shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted torso.

“Don’t turn away,” he murmured. “Watch closely.”

But Elena flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and turning her head. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips.

“Elena,” he called, his voice firm yet gentle.

Swallowing, she obeyed. The sight that greeted her was breathtaking. Kennard’s bare torso was a map of finely honed muscle, his frame widening from waist to chest and shoulders. He was imposing, powerful – a weapon made flesh. Though she’d known of his physique, witnessing it firsthand was overwhelming. 

He ran a hand roughly through his already tousled hair, the movement adding to his raw appeal. Elena watched, mesmerized. He was the only man she’d ever held hands with, and even then, it wasn’t out of affection – he’d been checking on her health. Never had she been this close to a man, embraced by his touch, lost in a kiss that stole her breath. And now, this.

Despite her amnesia, a single, clear thought resonated: this was entirely new territory.

The discarded shirt lay forgotten as Kennard’s focus narrowed, his hands working the buttons of his trousers with practiced ease. His unwavering gaze held Elena captive, as if willing her to witness every step of his undressing. This time, she couldn’t resist the rising tide of panic, twisting her entire body away.

Regret clawed at her instantly. The sounds – the rasp of fabric, the soft thump of his trousers hitting the floor – became amplified in the sudden silence. Her breath hitched, anxiety churning in her gut. What now? she thought desperately.

Hunched over, hands wrapped around her face, Elena braced herself for what she didn’t know. Kennard’s gentle touch, a stroke through her hair, a kiss on the backs of her hidden hands. She flinched, a silent protest as he tried to pry her fingers loose, but deep down, she knew resistance was futile. A muffled shake of her head was the only defiance she could manage.

“It can’t be helped,” Kennard murmured, a hint of frustration weaving through his voice. He wrapped a strong arm around her waist, pulling her back against him.

A gasp escaped Elena’s lips as a foreign hardness pressed against her lower stomach. Even veiled by the thin fabric, its heat radiated through her chemise, the size and shape unmistakable. A primal fear, a mix of apprehension and a strange, unfamiliar heat, coiled deep within her.

Embarrassed, Elena attempted to pull away. Her resistance was futile. Kennard’s hands cupped her buttocks, firmly pressing her flush against him. A primal hunger burned in his touch; mere contact wasn’t enough. He shifted, grinding his hardness against her stomach. A slick wetness spread where the tip pressed through her thin chemise.

“This is how much I want you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. “Don’t you feel the same?”

Elena’s head shook in silent denial. Yet, a truth she couldn’t deny stirred within her. Ever since his lips had stolen hers, a foreign heat had bloomed in her core, a yearning that deepened with every touch, every heated kiss.