Elisabeth turned to face him and pressed her hand to his cheek, watched his eyes close as he leaned into it. And her breath caught in her chest as she realized that they were alone. After so many months apart. The quiet stretched around her, lamps turned down low in the room, casting everything into romantic shadows across the burgundy couches, rust-red rugs, golden sconces. They had the thing she’d been craving so long: a whole night to themselves. Only Helene knew she was here, and she would keep their secret.

Franz realized it, too. She watched his eyes flick open with the knowledge, his eyebrows rising.

He closed the remaining space between them, turned her chin up with a finger, and kissed her softly. His lips found her cheekbones, jawline, eyelids, and she melted with each touch. His hands wandered soft across her neck, through her hair, down to her waist—not rushed this time, not urgent. Exploring.

Finally, finally, finally—her whole body and soul cheered, danced, sang. She loved him. He loved her. Tomorrow, they’d fight together; tonight, they’d love together.

She reached up and undid the buttons of his collar, kissed his neck. One side, then the other. Another button gone, another kiss along his chest. And again. And again. With the last button, she pushed both hands along the smooth skin of his stomach, up his chest, and over the shoulders, pushing his shirt off, marveling at every curve of lean muscle, the spicy scent of his clove cologne stronger, so close. It was a scene she’d imagined a hundred times, but it was so much better now that it was real.

Elisabeth’s body was light as air, aware of his every movement, every touch. Lanterns lit up the city to invite her home, and her body lit up to invite him in.

He unlaced each tie on her dress with care, traced each new exposure of skin. She kissed every line of his scar. He kissed every curve of her body. And when she was finally naked, he gasped—the sound a perfect thrill.

Then he was touching her, fingers tracing sparks across her once again. His mouth lingered in the curve of her neck, the slope of her breasts, the tender place on each inner thigh. By the time he pushed farther, Elisabeth was aching with need, longing for more, for the feeling of pressing deeper into each other, knowing him in every way there was to know.

Sex. It was everything Elisabeth hoped—and nothing she’d expected. She’d been told there’d be pain, but it wasn’t like that. It was her whole body gasping oh! And then: oh. An oh that echoed through her, settled down inside her, sighed with happy relief at connecting with the person she loved most in the world.

“Do you like it?” he’d asked, breath warm on her face. “How do you feel?”