Two…three…four more clasps, and the outer garment was fully undone. It fell from her shoulders and gathered at her waist. Scarlet freed her arms from the ivory material as if it were shackles and let the outer dress fall to the floor, leaving her in only the corset and a single slip skirt.
He began to gently unwind the tangled ties of her corset, brushing strands of her long dark hair to the side so as not to snare it. Scarlet swept her hair over her front shoulder, baring her shoulders and upper back, and Tristan tried to keep his eyes on the ties in his hands.
“I have missed being close to you,” she said quietly.
Tristan’s heart twisted. “I have missed you as well.”
His hands felt hot as they pulled at corset strings, slowly loosening their tightness around Scarlet’s body until patches of her skin peeked through the crisscrossed laces.
She shifted beneath his careful tugging and his fingertips brushed against the naked skin of her back. A visible shiver went through her and Tristan lost all coherent thoughts.
He’d pulled apart all but the top tie, so the only thing holding the corset to her body was the single lace below her shoulder blades. He paused, not sure what to do with his hands now that his task had ended. But his fingers seemed to be content trailing up her spine.
No.
He needed to leave and keep Scarlet safe. Now.
Just as he lifted his fingers from her skin, a tendril of her hair escaped the mass swept over her shoulder and swung against her back. He deftly twisted it in his hand and wrapped it to the side with every intention of releasing it. But with the back of her neck exposed beneath the lock in his hand he couldn’t seem to let go.
He absently leaned forward, his mouth just inches from the delicate spot where her neck met her shoulder, and exhaled against her skin.
Another delightful shiver ran down Scarlet’s body as she leaned back into him until her body was up against his. Fighting between the desire to keep her safe and the desire to hold onto her forever, Tristan stood frozen.
He slowly, carefully pressed his lips to the very spot he’d breathed upon and reveled in the soft gasp that escaped Scarlet’s mouth.
She tilted her head to the side, granting him access to her throat and shoulder, and he trailed whisper-soft kisses along the skin she shared with him.
Releasing the lock of hair from his fingers, Tristan slid his hands over her bare shoulders, lightly traced his fingers down her arms, and settled his hands against her hips, barely holding her as he barely kissed her.
She shifted against him, her corset lifting away from her body so his hands were now on the warm, bare skin of her waist beneath. He paused for a moment, his mouth right beside her ear as he tried to talk some sense into himself.
He brushed his lips against the sensitive spot above her jaw, felt Scarlet tremble with the touch, and all sense was lost.
There was something he wasn’t supposed to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Something about this was dangerous, yet his mind failed to acknowledge anything aside from the feel of Scarlet in his arms.
Eyes closed against the warmth of Tristan’s mouth, Scarlet found herself short of breath as she leaned against him. Reaching her hand back, she slid her fingers into his dark hair, holding his head against the curve of her neck where he was burning kisses into her skin.
Under her loose corset, his hands slid from her hips to her bare stomach, stroking her skin.
And suddenly it wasn’t enough.
His mouth, his touch. She wanted more.
Twisting around, she moved against the warm hands on her belly until they pulled out of her corset and she and Tristan were face to face. He slowly brought his hands up, cradling her face in a gentle way that brought back long lost memories.
For a moment they stared at each other, green eyes piercing blue eyes, chests rising and falling with heavy breath. He brushed his lips against hers, kissing her. Softly at first, then deeper. Then hungry and breathless; lips against lips, tongue against tongue. Scarlet moved her hands to his back, pulling him as close to her body as possible, pressing herself into him.
Sliding her hands under his shirt, Scarlet pulled the material up his hard muscles trying to remove it from his body. He pulled his mouth away from her long enough to pull off his shirt and toss it to the floor, before putting his hands back on her hips and bringing her back to him.
But Scarlet gasped, stunned by what she saw on his body.
A dark design started at the top of his left ribcage, crawled down to his hip, and disappeared into the front waistband of his trousers.
Tristan followed her gaze to his torso.
“My drawing,” she whispered. “You have my drawing on your skin.” She reached a hand out and tentatively touched the dark image, not believing what she was seeing. “How is this possible?” She couldn’t pull her eyes away from the design she had long ago marked onto his body with the sap of a leaf. “How has it not washed away?”
All at once, a thousand memories were called up in her mind. She and Tristan in the forest, hunting together, swimming together, laughing, running, loving, living—all with reckless abandon.
“It is called a tattoo and it is a permanent ink.” Tristan let her fingers trace the lines, standing still for her perusal. “I had it stitched by a monk when I went to war in your last life.”
Her lips parted. “You darkened my drawing to remember me?”
He nodded. “I wanted a piece of you to be a piece of me.”
She stroked her fingers up and down the lines, pulling his waistband down so she could see more of the drawing. Her heart swelled knowing Tristan had been wandering the world for over a hundred years with a memory of her inked into his side.
She looked up at him as emotion flooded her soul and, for the first time since she’d come back to life, she was grateful he could feel her emotions. She wanted him to feel every part of her that felt deeply for him and know she loved him just as fiercely as he loved her.
With devotion in his eyes, he smiled at her and Scarlet kissed him with every fiber of her being. Her mouth went wild against his and she ran her hands down his bare chest.
She pulled back from their kiss, just far enough to breathe, their mouths so close every hot, damp breath of Tristan’s feathered out against her cheeks. She opened her mouth to—well, she didn’t know, exactly…beg, perhaps?—but his lips were against her again, silencing any words she may have had and driving need through her veins.
Running his hands past her hips, Tristan lifted her onto the flat surface of the vanity behind her and stood between her legs. His lips traveled across her collarbone as his fingers pressed into the bare skin of her lower back and hips.
She held his head against her throat as he kissed her, the loose corset around her chest shifting with every ragged breath she took. With her legs wrapped around his waist she pulled him closer and pressed her body against his.