Once.
Twice.
“Yes.”
I dip my head, my breath fanning over her exposed neck.
“Good.”
Letting go of her torso, I shift to the edge of the bed and she moves so her legs straddle my lap. She looks at me. Watching, again.
She still wears the gown from the night before, and my fingers graze over rough fabric, trailing up her thighs. Her pulse flutters at the hollow of her throat.
I can see it from here.
Then she draws her bottom lip between her teeth.
“I’m not afraid of you, Vann. If that’s what you’re implying.”
“Maybe not of my blade, but you fear something. Maybe you fear to know what I think when you speak? What I feel when you look at me like that." I reach up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers linger at her jaw, thumb tracing the soft curve. "What runs through my mind when you bite your lip the way you're doing right now.”
Her teeth release her bottom lip instantly, but it's too late. The damage is done.
“What do you mean?” she chokes out, breathless.
My thumb slides across her mouth, catching the faint warmth of where she'd been worrying the skin. I know she likes the written word. Likes it when I quote the poets. I can do that.
“For what feels like eternity, I have endured as my eyes seek you out.”
Her eyes flutter closed.
“Arlet, if you still want what you wanted last night, I will be the warmth of the sun on a winter morning, the kind you didn’t realize you were missing until it touches your skin.” I splay my fingers over her stomach, and she gasps. “I will be the moment when the avalanche tumbles down the mountain—unyielding, just for you.”
I press my teeth into the shell of her ear, barely enough to hurt.
“Last night, you begged me to kiss you. To make you come.”
She freezes.
“Is that what you are asking from me now?”
Her eyes flutter open and closed. She threads her arms around my neck. “Yes.”
A low sound escapes me—not quite a growl, not quite a laugh.
I reach out to cup behind her neck, guiding her mouth toward mine. I give her time to pull away. A chance to deny the electricity crackling across our skin. But she doesn't move.
“No hands between us tonight,” I practically purr.
When our lips meet, it's slow. Soft. A brush of breath and warmth, like the first touch of a flame to dry kindling. My body hums, arranging and rearranging my very essence to watch in awe. Her hands rise to my shoulders, tentative at first, but then her fingers dig into the muscles there, pulling me closer.
I oblige.
The kiss deepens. Her mouth parts beneath mine, and I taste her. Sweet, like sunshine. Her sigh melts into me as my free hand slides around her waist, anchoring her to me.
She shifts on the bed, her thighs spreading wider as I pull her closer. My body presses between her legs, and she gasps as I tear at the laces on the back of her dress.
Our lips crash together again. Heat burns my skin, but I don’t push away. I want more.