Page 132 of A Baron of Bonds
He pulled away from my breast and my body shuddered in his absence. “I should have made more tea this morning. Our routine was thrown off a bit.”
“We shouldn’t,” I exhaled, biting my lip before I realized I was doing it.
His gaze flickered there, repeating, “We shouldn’t.”
“Clairannia warned not to risk it,” I added, my breath refusing to slow.
He nodded. “We’ve risked it several times already.”
“Though…” I trailed, using everything I had not to grind on top of what was hard beneath me. “We’ve made it through just fine in the past.”
His fingers dug into my thighs, and his head fell forward. “Karus, I need you to get off my lap before I beg you to stay.”
“Right,” I said, lifting myself and buttoning my shirt and vest quickly, my skin burning, my body aching, screaming at our choice to separate.
He rubbed his face, pulling his fingers back through his hair and rose, slipping his hand into mine. “Right. Let’s go find that book.”
Chapter 56
Rev
Viridis was in bloom.
And I could hardly fucking notice.
Seven years. I had seven years of experience not touching her, not staring at her like this. In all honesty, I had probably been terrible at that anyway.
After all, I only saw her once or twice a day, each time doing my very best to avoid her gaze, not willing to risk the effect I had on her then.
I hated how she’d fumble through her responses if I tried to speak to her. How Moira would scold me the next day, telling me she’d slept for hours into the afternoon, exhausted hearing my voice stray from what we’d agreed I could say.
Again, in all honesty, I recently faced a new plight.
I wanted to touch her always. Every second, every moment I breathed, I wanted her next to me.
She’d been out of my grasp for seven years, and now, I never wanted her hand to leave it.
Her eyes met mine as we ascended another staircase, both of us knowing exactly the level and section we needed to find.
By the breath of my beloved, she was beautiful.
The new white of her hair only beckoned her eyes to stand out further against her porcelain skin. The bow of her top lip and the gentle curve of her bottom, I longed to touch.
I didn’t fucking care about the tea.
And if that made me weak, so be it.
I’d be weak for her.
But I’d stay strong as well, continuing up the stairs, just holding her hand. I’d find a way to be content with just that for the moment, if it was what she needed from me.
She watched me fight what we both wanted and her lips parted, her chest rising, flushing, a subtle crimson racing across her skin, her freckles at her chest.
I should turn away.
I shouldn’t even look.
Maybe I’d be satisfied just to please her.
