Page 70 of By the Orchid and the Owl
“Oh, no.” Coen bared his teeth in a grin, as if challenging me. “I’mnot going to ignore it. And neither is Garvis. Him and I are going to investigate the hell out of this, but you, Terrin, Sasha, and Sylvie are going to stay as far away from it as you can get. Garvis and I can protect ourselves, but if any ofyouget caught snooping around, the Good Council will tear your minds to shreds, so I don’t even want to hear it. Understood?”
I pretended to really contemplate it, even though a weak, miserable part of me was so, so relieved to hear it. That I could keep pretending everything was fine.
“Will you at least tell me what you find?” I asked finally. “Because you say I have years to practice, but…” And the truth seemed to touch down on my skin, sending ripples of goosebumps over the barest parts of my body. “But in half a year, you’ll be gone, which means no more pills for me. No more suppressing this.” I rubbed my chest. “Which means I might be heading to that mountaintop sooner than—”
“Don’t.” His tone came out as a low snarl. “Don’t you dare think that I’ll leave you defenseless. I will find a way to get the pills to you every week for as long as you need them.”
We were close again, my breasts nearly brushing the underside of his own chest muscles. I could smell the rich, mellow scent of black bamboo that always seemed to linger on his skin, in his hair, and it made me think of our faux make-out session. The feel of his weight on top of me and the taste of his tongue in my mouth.
I snapped my mouth shut, mortified—because I could feel him in my mind, and by the way his mouth pulled into his biggest smirk yet, I could tell he was reliving each of those moments as well. But throughmyexperience, not through his.
“Interesting,” he drawled, as if bored. “I thought you were over it.”
“How could I be over it?” I snapped. “How can I even look at any other guy on campus whenyou’realways on my mind? Literally.”
Coen’s smirk sagged a tad. “I didn’t realize I was holding you back. I’m sorry if I’m overstepping… or keeping you from experimenting with—”
“Oh, I don’t want to experiment with anyone else but you.” My frustration flowed over, heating my mouth. “But you’re going to leave in a few months, so what’s the point, and Kimber already hates me, and Jenia thinksI’m sleeping my way to the top, and—”
“Get down,” Coen said suddenly, with such savage intensity that I thought someone from one of the pirate ships must have spotted us from the sea. I obeyed instantly, hurtling onto the blanket at our feet. “On your back,” he added.
Now my heartrate spiked for a completely different reason.
I laid down slowly. Coen sank to his knees and bowed over me.
“You really want to experiment with me?” His breath was sweet, rich, hot.
I could only manage a nod, my heart fluttering in my mouth.
Coen’s answering grin met my lips.
CHAPTER
25
It was hungrier than last time, this kiss.
Coen wasn’t just filling me, butdemandingme, his tongue exploring every inch of my mouth before he withdrew just enough to whisper against my lips, “Has anyone touched you here before?”
I shuddered against the scrape of his fingers over my breasts—above my shirt, but hard enough to make them pebble against him.
“Yes,” I breathed.
Wilder had touched me through my clothes back in Alderwick, but it had never felt likethis. Coen tutted and said, “Let’s get his name out of your head, shall we? I only want mine inside you right now.”
He moved his hands lower. For a thigh-clenching moment, I thought he was going to dip all the way down… but then his hands dug beneath my shirt and rose up again, stroking me skin-to-skin, finding my bra and sweeping around to unclip me from behind. And then his bare hands were cupping me, his thumbs making circles around my peaks.
“How about this?” he asked, his drawl fading away as something more urgent took its place.
I managed to shake my head. “Not… not exactly.”
My hips rose to meet his body as if against my will, and I felt it, then. His own desire, hard and large and unyielding. I tipped my head back at the pressure, at the need formore, closing my eyes against the brilliance of a million gemstones.
Coen heard me. He always heard me. His hands snaked down my ribcage and latched onto the apex of my thighs over my pants, but it wasn’t enough.
“So impatient,” he murmured against my neck.
“Maybe I wouldn’t be if you went a little faster.”
