Salviana wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him flush against her, choosing for this moment to lose herself in the heat of the man who called her his wife.
The kiss deepened once more, hungry and consuming, until Alaric pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers again, their breaths mingling in the warm glow of the hearth. His hands slid down her body with deliberate reverence, palms gliding over the silk of her gown until they reached the hem. With a low, appreciative hum, he gathered the fabric slowly, bunching it up her thighs and exposing the smooth skin beneath.
"Gods, Salviana," he murmured, voice rough with need as he dropped to one knee before her. "Look at you… perched here like a queen on her throne. My queen." His large hands parted her knees wider, gentle but insistent, as he settled between them. The cool wood of the dresser contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from his body and the flush already creeping across her skin.
