The night deepened around them, swallowing the world beyond the warm glow of Vincent's townhouse. The fireplace crackled softly, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls. Yet, here, in this room scented faintly of tobacco and lavender, there were no threats, no worries—only them.
Katherine sat cross-legged across from Vincent on the settee, her silk robe loose around her shoulders, a faint smile curling her lips as they exchanged words in hushed tones. Every word carried weight, weaving a fragile connection, but also igniting a quiet fire. Between soft laughter and lingering silences, there was tension. A slow, simmering pull neither dared to name, but both were acutely aware of.
Vincent's eyes never left her. He studied every inch of her—how the golden firelight kissed the delicate slope of her cheekbones, how the flickering glow softened the curves of her body, partially veiled by the loose fabric of her gown. But most intoxicating of all was the gentle rise and fall of her breath, as if even now, without touch, he had the power to unravel her.
And he did.
He shifted forward, closing the small distance between them. Katherine sensed it immediately. Her breath caught. She knew this wasn't a simple gaze anymore—it was a silent storm about to break.
Slowly, deliberately, Vincent reached out, his fingertips brushing against a stray lock of hair that had fallen along her cheek. His touch barely grazed her skin, yet it burned. Katherine's eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat, leaning instinctively into his hand as if desperate for more.
When she looked up again, her dark eyes glistened, shimmering pools that silently begged him not to stop.
Vincent's thumb traced along her lower lip, soft and reverent, before he murmured against the tender space between them, "You are... Beautiful."
Then, his lips claimed hers.
Their mouths met in a soft, aching kiss, slow and exploratory at first, but quickly unraveling into something deeper, something desperate. Katherine melted against him, her trembling fingers reaching to clutch the fabric of his shirt, needing to anchor herself.
Vincent pulled her closer until there was nothing left between them but breath and heat. His hand slid along the smooth expanse of her neck, down to the bare slope of her shoulder where the silk slipped effortlessly under his touch, pooling at her arm to reveal the soft, perfect curve of her breast.
He paused.
His eyes roamed the delicate swell before him, admiring the supple shape, the way the shadows painted her skin, how her nipple peaked softly under his gaze. Katherine trembled—not from fear but from the tender hunger blooming deep within her.
"You are a masterpiece," he whispered, almost reverent, as if afraid to disturb the fragile beauty before him.
His hand caressed her breast, the pad of his thumb circling the sensitive peak, drawing a gasp from her lips. His touch was gentle but possessive, as if he were memorizing every contour, every texture. The contrast of his rougher palms against her silky skin sent shivers through her.
Then came his lips.
They left her mouth only to map the delicate lines of her face, feather-light kisses over her eyelids, along her cheekbones, down the slender column of her throat. She could feel his breath—warm, soft, maddening—following each kiss, teasing her skin, promising more.
Vincent kissed lower, pausing to whisper against the hollow of her neck, "Tell me to stop if you wish." His voice was hoarse, frayed by restraint.
Katherine shook her head, too overwhelmed to form words. Instead, her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
He obeyed without hesitation.
His lips found the delicate curve of her breast, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the soft swell until they reached her nipple. He took it gently between his lips, sucking lightly, then deeper, his tongue circling before flicking teasingly. The sensation forced a moan from her, loud and unrestrained.
Her back arched, pressing herself further into his mouth as if inviting him to devour her completely.
Vincent's free hand slid along the curve of her waist, then down to cup the fullness of her hips. His touch was reverent yet hungry, tracing the feminine lines that defined her, kneading and caressing as if he worshiped the very shape of her.
He alternated between soft kisses and gentle sucks, laving her other breast, ensuring neither went neglected. The heat of his mouth combined with the rough drag of his thumb against her sensitive peaks had Katherine trembling beneath him.
He kissed lower.
Down her ribcage, over the slight dip of her stomach, savoring the faint salt of her skin and the way her belly quivered beneath his lips. When he reached the delicate indent of her navel, he pressed a kiss there, whispering against her skin, "Do you trust me?"
"Yes," Katherine gasped without hesitation, her voice shaking.
Vincent's hands parted her thighs gently, reverently. She was so soft, so warm. His touch sent jolts through her as his lips continued their descent. He kissed the sensitive inside of her thigh, drawing shivers from her as he alternated between soft suckles and light nips.
Her breath became uneven.
When at last his tongue flicked against her most sensitive spot, Katherine cried out—sharp, raw, helpless.
Her hips jerked, but Vincent's strong hands anchored her, holding her steady as he lavished her with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue. He tasted her deeply, thoroughly, drinking in every sound, every breathless moan as if they were sacred.
His name slipped from her lips like a prayer.
"Vincent..." she gasped, clutching the sheets beneath her.
He worked her with slow, practiced precision, teasing, tasting, savoring, until she trembled violently, desperate for release. He worshipped her body, mapping every inch of her with his mouth, his hands still caressing the gentle curves of her waist, rising to cup her breasts as his lips continued their work.
The combination was unbearable. Deliciously unbearable.
When his lips sucked her swollen bud gently into his mouth and his tongue swirled slow, deliberate circles, Katherine shattered.
A sobbed moan tore from her throat as her climax consumed her. Pleasure flooded her, bright and blinding, leaving her helplessly gasping as wave after wave rolled through her.
Vincent held her through it, his mouth never leaving her until every last tremor subsided.
When he finally pulled himself up, Katherine lay boneless beneath him, her breath ragged, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes—not from pain, but from overwhelming release.
He pressed soft, grounding kisses along her temple, whispering sweet nothings into her hair as his fingers traced idle patterns along her hips and thighs, soothing the tremors still rippling through her.
Then, in a voice barely louder than a breath, he confessed, "I think I may be in love you Katherine."
Katherine froze, overwhelmed.
Tears spilled freely now. Yet, for once, they were not born from sorrow.
And softly, without fear, she whispered back, "I love you too Vincent." with a smile.
Vincent pulled her into his arms, holding her as though he could shield her from the world. They lay there tangled in each other, safe, bare, and utterly unraveled.