Page 81 of The Seeker
It was so good.
Years had passed since Meera had taken any lover, and she hadn’t felt the touch of an Irin male for over a century. His carefully contained power was stronger than any aphrodisiac.
His lips were firm and his hand rested carefully on her hip, but she wanted more. She ran her hands up his sides and along the ridges of muscle that framed his lower abdomen. She scraped her fingernails along his skin until his careful mouth lost its patience and nipped her jaw in rebuke.
Meera laughed. “Don’t you like it?” She’d felt the quick shiver on his skin. The raised flesh against her thigh. She dipped her fingers beneath his waistband, teasing him for a second before she ran them up the center of his belly, playing with the fine black line of hair. She brushed her thumbs over his flat nipples and felt him groan against her neck.
“Princess, you’re tempting me.”
She arched her hips up. “Good.”
His mouth took hers again, and she couldn’t say a word. He kept their lips fused together as he began to move, pressing his arousal between her legs. She could feel her flesh heating, growing damp and hungry for him.
Meera reached for his pants, but Rhys grabbed her hand and knit their fingers together.
He didn’t mean to—
“Oooh!”
Rhys covered Meera’s lips with his own and swallowed her moan as the line of his erection stroked at a perfect angle between her thighs. The cloth between them was thin, and Meera felteverything. The act felt illicit. Forbidden. He was teasing her to orgasm fully clothed, only a few feet away from another scribe.
Meera arched up when she was close, but Rhys kept right on going, not stopping for a second until the tension gathering in her belly snapped and she came hard and long, shuddering beneath him. She felt a burst of magic release from her body and fill the tent, reaching for Rhys and surrounding him.
He lifted his mouth and arched up, red riding high on his cheekbones and his lips swollen from her kisses. He locked his eyes with hers and let out a long breath as he reached for her knee and angled it up until he pressed long and hard between her thighs.
Meera saw a flash of silver in the darkness, and Rhys swallowed a guttural groan of pleasure as he came. He released her knee and rested on top of her, pressing his cheek to hers. His breath was hot on her neck.
“Meera,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “Sha ne’ev reshon.”
The tender words nearly brought her to tears.
My belovedreshon.
His skin was damp with sweat. He placed one more kiss on her mouth before he rolled to the side and stripped off the loose shorts he’d been wearing, cleaning himself before he rolled them into a ball he tucked into the corner of his duffel bag.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Enjoying the view?”
“Yes.” She ran a hand down the intricate tattoos on his back. “Your family marks are long.”
“That’s not the compliment I was looking for.”
Meera rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to tell you things you already know.”
Rhys laughed, pulled on a clean pair of shorts, then stretched out beside her, pushing up her shirt to place his hand over her abdomen.
Meera smiled and tried to move him. “I have a belly.” It was the one part of her body she was a bit self-conscious about.
Rhys said not a word, but his hand slowed and he moved it deliberately over the soft rise. He pressed a kiss over her belly button and whispered, “Perfect.”
The gesture was so unexpectedly tender her breath stopped for a moment. She reached down and traced the arch of his eyebrow and the line of his nose, wanting to explore every inch of him.
Who are you, Rhys of Glast? Who is the man the Creator designed for me?
He stretched out next to her, scooting his sleeping bag closer to hers, and tucked her into the curve of his arm.
“Tell me more about Udaipur,” he said sleepily.
“Are you going to fall asleep?”
