Page 112 of House of the Raven
Buckling, I curse from behind his hand, but the insults I’ve directed at his mother come out muffled. I’m angry. Beyond angry. I’m going to kick his ass. Again.
“I thought I heard something,” he says, “and I came to check, but I think… you were having a bad dream.”
I’m breathing hard, but I make a conscious effort to calm down. When I do, he slowly lifts his hand and shifts his weight from my arms, setting me free. He watches me carefully, as if he expects me to start screaming at any moment, but all I can do is grind my teeth.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I will be once you get off me,” I sneer.
“Are you sure you want me to do that?” His voice grows husky.
I’m taken aback. Ever since our sparring match, he has shown me little more than indifference, and now he’s here—not only inside my bedchamber but in my bed and on top of me. Part of me wants to shove him away with matching indifference, but a bigger part wants the exact opposite. Despite myself, I find my anger morphing into exhilaration.
My heart pounds harder. I want to grab his jacket and pull him towards me, let him be my first kiss. But I won’t make it so easy for him. He has to shed some of his pride and propriety, if he wants this, and from the hungry look in his eyes, I think he does.
“Are you really here because you heard something?” I ask.
“Of course.”
I’m not sure if I believe him. “And does ensuring my safety involve you straddling me in my bed?”
He’s serious at first, then a lopsided smile stretches his mouth. “Certainly.”
“No, Don Bastien. It does not, and I highly doubt they taught you that at the Academia de Guardias. So why are you doing this?” Now, my own voice is husky and suggestive.
“Well, you were reaching for the knife you keep under your pillow. I might be dead if I hadn’t acted quickly.”
“I’ll grant you that, but I’m not trying to kill you now, and you’ve had plenty of time to get off my bed. So what is this all about?”
“All right, princess, I’ll tell you what you want to hear.” His voice is a rumbling whisper that feels like a caress over my skin. “But you should know that my job isn’t easy. It hasn’t been since the first day I laid eyes on you. In fact, I think I’m in an unfair position.”
My chest is visibly moving up and down. The intense way he’s looking into my eyes, the heat of his body close to mine, the caressing timbre of his words… I’m a feather drifting in a breeze of his making.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, princess. I stand out there, wondering what you’re doing behind the closed door, wishing I could be in here instead. For days, you’ve been the only thing on my mind.” He pauses. “There it is. Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make you happy? The lowly guard is obsessed with you?”
He starts to move off, his expression now angry. Is the idea that I’m a princess and he’s my guard really what bothers him? Something tells me there’s more to it, but what?
I snatch a fistful of his jacket and force him to stay.
“Kiss me, Bastien,” I say, hoping that the invitation will break down the imaginary barriers he sees between us.
He hesitates.
“I want you to be the first man to kiss me,” I add, my voice carrying a slight edge of desperation.
His eyebrows go up, revealing his surprise.
“It’s true. No one has ever kissed me, and I want it to be you. It doesn’t matter what happens afterward. Tonight, I want it to be you.”
Slowly, he moves back to hover directly on top of me. He wets his lips, the tip of his tongue traveling along the length of his upper lip. The small action sends a lighting jolt to my core, the same sensation I felt the other day, and I have a name for it now: lust. It’s delicious, and I want more of it.
Bastien tilts his head to one side and very slowly lowers his mouth to mine. There is conflict in his eyes, and I fear that at any moment, he’ll pull away. I want him desperately to stay, and this is not wholly up to him. To prove that, I lick my lips the same way he did.
With a rumbling growl in the back of his throat, he drapes his body over mine, his mouth capturing my own.
I meet his kiss with as much fervor as he offers me. His mouth explores mine as if to memorize it, tracing my top and bottom lips. I do my best to memorize him as well. That chiseled mouth is on mine, and I’m filled with awe because I wanted this and thought it would never happen.
Just when I think it could not feel any better, his tongue slips in and brushes against mine. I let out a breathless gasp. Encouraged, he deepens his kiss, his tongue flicking over the corners of my mouth, the length of my bottom lip, then it slips back inside, expertly stroking with a suggestion of more, but what else could that possibly be?
