“You don’t. You love me through the fear, even when my doubt hurts, and I will do the same for you.”

There was a beat of silence, and I rose to sit beside her on the bed.

“I have loved you across lifetimes. Why would I stop now?”

She studied me with those beautiful dark eyes. I did not think she knew how deep they really went—how far I could see into her soul, how certain I was we were meant to be together.

“I am tired, Adrian,” she whispered. “I am tired of fighting.”

“Then let us not fight,” I said.

She didn’t speak, but after a moment, she rose onto her knees and drew her nightgown over her head. A rush of heat went straight to the head of my cock, instantly hardening as she exposed her gloriously naked body. I sat and admired her. She was perfect—her breasts were heavy, her figure full, and the warm light in the room made her brown skin glow.

I shifted onto my knees too, matching her pose, and kissed her, hands skimming along her waist to her breasts. I held them in my hands, moving away from her lips to take each one into my mouth, running my tongue over each nipple before sucking them into hard points while Isolde’s fingers tangled in my hair.

I released her and kissed up her chest, her neck, her jaw, my mouth hovering over hers as I spoke.

“Let me make love to you,” I said. “Let me worship you.”

Her response was to undress me. She shoved my overcoat off and lifted my tunic, rising so she could pull it over my head. I stood to take off my trousers, and they were hardly off my feet before her warm hand came around my cock.