Page 79 of Halfling
Which was a large reason why she insisted on continuing to treat it. Seeing him recover and heal reassured her that that horrid night was past them. That he was all right.
Another reason was, of course, that she enjoyed touching him. It was bad of her, she knew, but she thrilled to see his warm skin jump under her touch. She loved the feel of soft skin over hard muscle, how she could discern every minute flex and shift as her fingertips skated over him.
When she finished with his side, he let his shirt fall back and leaned down to her so she could reach his face.
He’d done this before, enough that they didn’t both blush as furiously at it anymore, but tonight, dressed only in a nightshift with a bed behind them, Sorcha couldn’t help flushing as she watched his face descend to hers.
They stayed like that, faces close enough that he was all she saw.
If his eyes dip down, I’ll do it, I’ll kiss him.
But his eyes stayed on hers, the hazel of them cast almost a bronze in the light from the hearth.
Sorcha let the moment pass and dipped a finger in the salve. With careful, light touches, she spread it over the healing scar on his face.
This wound was less angry looking than the one at his side, but it was a more constant reminder of what he’d been through already to help her.
She was grateful he still considered her worth the trouble and wanted to thank him the best way she knew how—caring for him.
But this stubborn man…
Sorcha cleared her throat again. “If you truly don’t want to sleep in the bed, that’s all right. I don’t want you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. It’s your choice.”
The words were said to his chest, Sorcha not quite able to look him in the eye until she was done. She found him staring down at her, eyes deep but thoughts inscrutable. She sensed a flurry of thoughts and emotions tumbling behind that gaze, felt them in the taut way he held himself, but he kept all of it back with an iron will.
Finally, after a long moment of dreadful, sucking silence, wherein Sorcha could only hold still and bare her sincerity to his searching gaze, Orek nodded slowly. Her stomach sank, thinking he acknowledged her capitulation.
But then, “All right,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Yes. But I will lay nearest the door.”
She nodded, uncaring if he wanted to sleep diagonally across it, only that he’d be there.
Sorcha tried not to seem too giddy about it as she went about snuffing the candles and ignored how Orek stood beside the bed awkwardly, waiting for her to climb in first. She did so without pushing his obvious shyness, throwing back the heavy coverlet.
Sorcha slid between the blankets, sighing with pleasure as the soft mattress cradled her. Fluffing and arranging pillows, she still ignored that he stood unmoving, mouth drawn tight.
With nothing left to do, she smiled gently at him. “Good night,” she said, and rolled to her side, giving him her back.
It’s what he seemed to need to finally make his own way under the blankets. His movements were stiff and awkward, and it took him many small shifts and adjustments to finally lay still, on his back she thought.
Sorcha listened to his breathing, coming a little fast, and she swore she could almost hear his heart beating a rapid tattoo. She held her breath, her own pulse racing at her neck and between her thighs, but she made herself hold still.
Don’t spook him.
Burrowing deeper into the blankets, Sorcha made herself comfortable, thinking it would be a long night.
She intended to see if the darkness would loosen up whatever it was holding him so rigid—even if it was to reject her small advances. Curiosity burned almost as hotly as her lust, and she hoped to suss out a little more of him, thinking that the soft quietness of the room would make him feel safe to speak to her.
Sheintendedall this—but when her body eased into the comfort of the bed, there was nothing she could do to stop the pull of sleep. Surrounded by soft blankets and warmth from the fire and big body beside her, Sorcha’s plans went to waste as she slipped into sleep.
Orek listened to the fire snap and sizzle for a long time. The faint noise from the tavern below eventually quieted as people found the bottoms of their cups and sought their beds. Soon, the room filled with the soft harmony of the fire and Sorcha’s soft breathing.
The sounds did their best to lull him, but for a long while, Orek could do nothing but lie there stiffly, staring at the ceiling.
She’s right there, so close, hidden away and safe.
