House of Sky and Breath (Crescent City #2) by Sarah J. Maas

“Hunt,” she managed to say, voice strangled.

He paused, ready to halt should she give the word. But that was the last thing she wanted.

Bryce met Hunt’s blazing gaze, her chest heaving, head a dizzy, starry mess. She said the only thing in her head, her mind, her soul. “I love you.”

She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She’d never said them to any male, hadn’t even thought the words about Hunt, though she’d known for a while. Why they came out then, she had no idea, but—his eyes darkened again. His fingers tightened on her legs.

Oh gods. She’d fucked everything up. She was a stupid, horny idiot, and what the fuck had she been thinking, telling him that when they weren’t even dating, for fuck’s sake—

Hunt unleashed himself. Dipped his head back down between her thighs and feasted on her. Bryce could have sworn thunderstorms rumbled in the room. It was answer and acceptance of what she’d said. Like he was beyond words now.

Tongue and teeth and purring—all combined into a maelstrom of pleasure that had Bryce grinding against him. Hunt gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise and she loved it, needed it; she drove her hips into his face, pushing his tongue into her, and then something zapped right at her clit, as if Hunt had summoned a little spark of lightning, and her brain and body lit up like white fire, and oh gods, oh gods, oh gods—

Bryce was screaming the words, Hunt’s wings still cocooning them as she came hard enough that she arced clean off the counter, fingers scrabbling in his hair, pulling hard. She was flaring with light inside and out, like a living beacon.

She could have sworn they fell through time and space, could have sworn they tumbled toward something, but she wanted to stay here, with him, in this body and this place—

Hunt licked her through every ripple, and when the climax eased, when the light she’d erupted with had faded, and that falling sensation had steadied, he lifted his head.

He met her stare from between her thighs, panting against her bare skin, lightning in his eyes. “I love you, too, Quinlan.”

No one had said those words to Hunt in two centuries.

Shahar had never said them. Not once, though he’d stupidly offered the words to her. The last person had been his mother, a few weeks before her death. But hearing them from Quinlan …

Hunt lay beside her in bed thirty minutes later, the minty scent of their toothpaste and lavender of their shampoo mingling in the air. That had been weird enough: showering one after the other, then brushing their teeth side by side, those words echoing. Walking through the apartment, past Ruhn, Declan, and Ithan watching sunball analysts argue over tonight’s game, wondering how so much and yet so little had changed in the span of a few minutes.

Going into the Bone Quarter tomorrow seemed like a far-off storm. A distant rumble of thunder. Any thought of their search at the Meat Market tonight dissolved like melting snow.

In the dimness, the TV still droning from the living room, Hunt stared at Bryce. She silently watched him back.

“One of us has got to say something,” Hunt said, voice gravelly.

“What else is there to say?” she asked, propping her head on a fist, hair spilling over a shoulder in a red curtain.

“You said you love me.”

“And?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Hunt’s mouth twitched upward. “It was said under duress.”

She bit her lip. He wanted to plant his teeth there. “Are you asking whether I meant it, or do you think you’re that good with your mouth that I went out of my mind?”

He flicked her nose. “Smart-ass.”

She flopped back onto the mattress. “They’re both true.”

Hunt’s blood heated. “Yeah?”

“Oh, come on.” She tucked her arms behind her head. “You have to know you’re good at it. That lightning thing …”

Hunt held up a finger, a spark of lightning dancing at the tip. “Thought you’d enjoy that.”

“If I’d known ahead of time, I might have been concerned about you deep-frying my favorite parts.”

He laughed warmly. “I wouldn’t dare. They’re my favorite parts, too.”

She lifted herself onto her elbows, unable to keep from fidgeting. “Does it weird you out? What I said?”

“Why should it? I reciprocated, didn’t I?”

“Maybe you felt bad for me and wanted to make it less weird.”

“I’m not the kind of person who lightly tosses those words around.”

“Me neither.” She reached over and Hunt leaned toward her hand, letting her brush her fingers through his hair. “I’ve never said it to anyone. I mean, like … romantically.”

“Really?” His chest became unbearably full.

She blinked, her eyes like golden embers in the darkness. “Why the surprise?”

“I thought you and Connor …” He wasn’t sure why he needed to know.

That fire banked slightly. “No. We might have one day, but it didn’t get that far. I loved him as a friend, but … I still needed time.” She smiled crookedly. “Who knows? Maybe I was just waiting for you.”

He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I’ve been in love with you for a while. You know that, right?” His heart thundered, but he said, “I was … very attached to you during our investigation, but when Sandriel had me in that cell under the Comitium, she put on this fucked-up slideshow of all the photos on my phone. Of you and me. And I watched it and knew. I saw the photos of us toward the end, how I was looking at you and you were looking at me, and it was a done deal.”