Page 139 of Untempered
When he eased away, the tip of his nose touching the side of mine and his breaths quick, I felt like an arrow drooping away from its notch and the unskilled fingers that might otherwise hold it. I tugged him back down, and he came gladly, his hand between us tugging away the blankets, sending them tumbling to the side.
The rush of cold air against me wasn’t enough. The bite of his teeth on my bottom lip was jarring. I held him tighter to me, the balance broken, hungry, and wanting to know all of the sensations now so I could better choose the right ones, in the right combination.
His hand tangled in my skirts. He hadn’t known formal skirts from everyday ones. I suspected he’d know how to get into them under normal circumstances, but I’d layered cautiously. He wasn’t getting in without an axe and a map.
His teeth scraped against my neck, and the world felt blurry and far away. I wanted it to go even further away. If it never returned, that would be fine.
I need to move.But I didn’t want to move. I felt his hand searching through my skirts, and it made me think of myself, my whole life, searching to make it work. And still he kissed, nibbled, and breathed, and I ached the sweetest ache.I need to move.His hand coiled around my thigh, right above my knee. It filled his hand, but he gripped me as best he could, breathing like we’d been sparring forever. Breathing like we could continue sparring forever. I parted my legs, and he notched between them, pressed in as close as he could get. Did he feel the way I burned for him?
Was it his lips that begged entry, or mine that begged to be explored? I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. The world went quiet as his tongue dove deep into my mouth and his body pressed against mine. Sparks flew up my limbs and set fires in my body.
He got my skirts up. I could feel the coolness of the air filtering through my many-layered, stockinged legs and it was like bliss. But his hasty, hungry fingers couldn’t find how I’d tucked them into cautious layers.
I wasn’t ready to die. But I was quite content to live.
A slight turn was all I needed for him to break away and lean back. My eyes popped open. I tracked him because he was all that was real. Chay, his movements, his touches, the hungry heat in my blood.
There weren’t extra words to explain, but I didn’t need to. He got out of the way while I wrestled with my clothing, his eyes on me as he stripped off his own layers. The quick movements of his body were like some sort of dance I didn’t know the steps to, but I didn’t need to follow. I could lie back, untangling myself absently, my attention on the slide and ripple of muscle in his shoulders, and the way the light played over his skin.
He took off his boots. It was real, then.
I didn’t stop, though. No one would ever know because we’d never tell them.
Chay knelt before the tangle of clothes I was slowly working through, his expression one of intense focus.
There were many words I could use to describe Chay. Untrustworthy wasn’t one of them.
I took in the sight of him before me. An old, faded scar went from the base of his neck across his chest. One of his biceps was puckered at two points where he’d taken arrows. One of his thighs bore a fresher mark, not yet silvered, both wide and puckered. The spots on either side of it showed where his skin had been sewn up.
I wanted to know every story behind every mark.
As I watched, he started rolling up his shirt in a bundle, then layered his gambeson on, too. One of my nails caught on a thread of my stocking and I carefully removed it, but returned my attention to his quick, sure hands as he tightened his belt around the round bundle.
I didn't ask. It was a good size for a pillow, I supposed, though the density of it didn't appeal to me. It was set aside, anyway, as he helped ease one of the freed layers of hose from my body, stopping down near my knees.
I liked the look he cast my boots, full of frustration yet resigned to their necessity. I liked it, but I disagreed with it. Using one toe, I set to work on removing a boot, and he was right there helping me, easing them away from my feet that ached at the protective leather exposing them to the cold.
He'd warm me. I knew he would.
Strong hands coached cloth down my legs, trailing his fingers over my calves and dipping into the valley at the back of my knee and again at the base of my feet.I saw his cock in the shadow between his thighs, hard and ready for me.
What texture would it be? How would it feel in my hand or against my skin? The questions weren’t new, but knowing I could have answers momentarily made my head spin, and my fingers hurried to separate the ties of my clothing.
And when the layers grew thinner, his hands lingered longer, his eyes tracking the movement of my hands closely. Tension coiled in my limbs, tightening with every moment of waiting.
The idea of him pouncing on me the moment he saw skin made sparks flurry along my limbs, but he held himself still, poised to assist.
Words clamored in my head, but my tongue wouldn't work. Suddenly, the sound of the wind outside was loud in the boughs of the apple trees, and all I could smell was dust and smoke.
His fingers were on my bare skin, finally, but the sudden unease didn't settle until the last item was removed, leaving me bare from the waist down bar the laces that dangled.
When he came close enough, I slid my hands up his arms. He was cold to the touch and let me pull him into me, arranging the covers over us.
I wanted to warn him against the chill, but when his lips met mine again, slow and lingering, they were warm. And if his thighs were cold, I couldn't tell.
"Do you have a pregnancy charm?" he asked me.
I nodded. It was at the keep, because why would I have brought such an item? But it would work fine even in a number of days.
