Page 138 of Untempered
“Oh.” My head ached. Isolde was right about Luca, but it was what it was. “You and Isolde should compare notes someday.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. He looked down at me, humor sparking in his eyes. “I expect I’d agree with many of her observations.” Then, “What does she say about me?”
He was a brave man to ask such a question. I dug through my mind but couldn’t recall very much. “That you’re not a total liability,” I said slowly. It might’ve been the highest praise she’d given any man.
He looked pleasantly surprised. “I’d take that to the merchant’s guild.”
That wasn’t the response I’d expected, but for some reason it made affection sweep through me. She would’ve been amused for a moment to hear him say such, then gone about her day. It was just lovely to feel like hesawus.
I had to unclasp my hands and unsettle the covers to reach up and run the pads of my fingers over the short hairs on his jaw. He shut his eyes. I was so close I could feel the slight change in his heartbeat.
He could say no. He’d told me so. It was yes that was hard, right?
Beneath my hand, he remained unmoving. He hadn’t been this still when I’d had a knife to his throat all those moons ago.
Whether the stubble on his jaw was classified as a beard yet or not, I was unsure, but the roughness of it made shivers climb up my spine. It rasped against my skin in a soft but spiky way when I smoothed my fingers one way, and gave way entirely when I ran them back the other. It made me feel like my insides were liquid. His jaw had been shadowed when we’d met in the orchard, too. But I hadn’t felt it then.
“I wonder what would’ve happened if we’d run into each other and become friends,” I said, thinking out loud.
Before I could explain what I meant, his lips curved. “This, I expect.” His eyes had opened, a fact that made my thoughts scatter. His hand had tightened over my waist. As his weight shifted, I brought my knee up and was gripping his shirt before I realized what I was doing.
He’d frozen, his expression one of worry. “Are you okay?” he asked, paused at an awkward angle, leaning somewhat over me, vulnerable to however I wished to ragdoll him.
“My apologies.” I released him, my fingers groaning from the tension I’d put them under.
He shook his head a little. “Should I not kiss you? Just to be clear, you understand.”
My head spun. I looked up at him, aware of the skewed blankets between us at the same time as I was feeling the heat from his body and thinking about how that beard might feel against my face. He hated politeness and valued honesty. Unsure how my face ought to be arranged, I studied the way his gambeson was tied closed and the way it felt brushing against my belly where it hung ever so slightly away from his. How had he worn his hair before? I could barely picture it now. It was longer. Floppy, against his forehead and the collar of his shirt. Waves of it had picked up in the breeze and drank in the sun.
“You probably shouldn’t,” I said, trying to breathe. “But I’d be glad if you did.” It’d be much faster and more sensible to go up and under his gambeson to feel if his skin elsewhere was as soft as it was on his cheek. Even as a thrill went through me at this idea, my belly twisted with fear. “Wait.” I put a hand between us out of reflex again, and he stopped.
Was he doing this out of duty?
Hecouldn’trefuse me.
The thought made me feel sick. He’d said he was most comfortable saying no, butcouldhe say no to me, regardless of his comfort level?
“What’s wrong?” he asked me.
I tried to figure out whether he’d be breaching his oath or not. It was entirely possible he’d know that rejecting my advances, however clumsy, would have hurt. “It’ll hurt me a lot more if you kiss me out of duty than if you tell me you’d rather not. In case your oath is guiding your decision-making.”
His lips curved in a smile, and his weight settled over me like my favorite combination of blankets. The warmth of his breath stirred the air beside my ear, and my body lit up from toe to brow.
“Noted.” I closed my eyes, better to feel the gentle brush of the tip of his nose against the outside of my ear, frozen so as not to end the sensations. “You want to know what’s guiding my decision-making?”
A thrill raced up my spine. Without moving my head, I felt his lips brush against my lobe. His cheek skimmed gently against my jaw, and I couldn’t help but turn into him, just a little, and rub myself against him. “Yes.” That was the right answer. The responsible answer.
He rubbed back, pressing his lips to my temple, quick kisses that dipped once more to my ear. The blankets were far too hot. Why had I banked the fire so high? Could I escape the covers without making him move? If not, I’d just die of heat and be glad of it. His lips closed over my earlobe, and my attention focused almost entirely on that small part of my body as I drank in the sensation.
“I want you to burn for me, Embers.” The words were cold against the dampness of my skin and coiled in the valleys of my ear, seeping slowly into my brain.
I had to swallow before I could manage, “I think I’m on the way.”
His laughter was silent, but I could feel him shaking, the curve of his lips, the quick exhales. “We’ll see.” His nose brushed against the point where my jaw met my neck, and I didn’t know what to do. I’d thought he’d kiss me, and mayhap we’d shed clothes and?—
His fingers skimmed my cheek. I breathed deeply, and he cradled my jaw as his lips skimmed inexorably toward mine. The brush of his thumb distracted me from the occasional rasp of his beard against me. I stayed frozen, waiting for more.
His lips were warm on mine, surprisingly soft. I reached up and fanned my fingers over his cheeks, running the pads of my fingers and palms against the short hairs. The combination of soft lips and biting stubble was almost the perfect balance of sensation, and I struggled to breathe, drunk on the feelings coursing through me. The heat was there, still, and the hunger, but that exquisite balance ofjust sowas what consumed my will to move ever again.
