Page 177 of Lady of the Drowned Empire
“You are, too, you know,” I said. “So fucking beautiful.” And he was. Every last inch of him was utter perfection in my eyes, his muscles so defined yet elegant. I’d once dreamt of him naked in the temple, but my imagination had nothing on the reality of Rhyan.
He winked at me. “Get your eyeful now, partner. I’m starting to get cold and need you to warm me.”
I laughed. “Before you get in here, turn around.”
“What?”
“Turn around,” I ordered. “I need a good look at that ass.”
He bit down on his lip, his eyes narrowing, but he turned for me, flexing his perfectly sculpted cheeks until I was giggling helplessly.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gave me one of the stern looks he often reserved for training. “First you objectify me, and then you laugh at me, all while I’m standing here shivering,” he warned, using his overly affected northern accent. His good eyebrow sloped down in admonishment, and then he turned, jumping on top of me, and kissing me until I wasn’t giggling anymore.
He pulled the blankets up around us, our bodies tangled together, his pine-and-musk scent cocooning me as his hand found its usual place to rest on my stomach. His calloused fingers stroked my skin as our breaths slowed and synchronized. I felt myself falling into unconsciousness, warmer, safer, and more contented than I’d ever been.
Just before I dozed off, he whispered, “Mekara,” one more time.
I sighed happily, tucked away in the most delicious blanket of warmth, Rhyan’s arms around me, his knee between my legs. The last of our fire crackling against the slow rush of water in the spring. Every part of me was tired. Some parts of me were sore, as I’d expected. But it was a surprisingly welcome soreness, reminding me of every intimate touch, every moment that had happened between us. I could almost feel him still throbbing inside me.
I was lying on my side, Rhyan wrapping around my body from behind, and I could feel very clearly that even if he wasn’t awake yet, some part of him was. And it was very ready to continue what we had started last night.
Unable to help myself, I arched my back, rubbing against him, forcing his hands to tighten and pull me flush against his chest, his arousal even more obvious now, pressing against my backside.
“Mmmm,” Rhyan moaned sleepily, his fingers on my belly stirring. His lips found my neck, pressing tiny kisses up the curve to my ear. A soft growl erupted low in his throat as he playfully bit at my earlobe. “Morning, lover.”
I turned in his arms, unable to hide the grin taking over. “Morning.”
His gaze moved across my face. “Most beautiful sight to wake up to.” He cupped my cheek, pulling my lips toward his, as he gently rolled me onto my back.
My hips lifted automatically as he moved over me. I reached for his ass, pulling him down.
He stilled, leaning forward to kiss me softly. “Are you sore?” he asked, running a hand down my leg.
“Maybe a little.”
“Sorry,” he said, but even as he apologized, he rocked his hips forward, gently sliding against me, with such slow precision, I bucked.
Warmth burrowed between my legs as I slowly rolled up to meet his thrusts.
“You know,” I said, digging my fingers into his forearm, “It doesn’t look like you feel too sorry.”
“Doesn’t it?” he gritted through his teeth. “What about my apology offends you?” he growled, sliding back and forth so deliciously slow, his abdomen taut, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Customarily, an apology…doesn’t consist…of repeating…the thing...one must—” I gasped, “apologize for.”
He gripped my ass, gently lifting me, the new angle even more intense. “Come on, partner. Give me the definition then, teach me the custom.”
“Fuck,” I panted, my brain too scrambled with pleasure to return the banter. He wasn’t even inside me and still, he was….
“That doesn’t sound like a definition,” he teased.
“It is now. What you’re doing.” I was panting.
“This?” He rolled his hips.
“Yes,” I cried. “Now don’t you dare stop apologizing.”
He bent his head to my nipple, sucking it between his lips, before kissing me again, wrapping my legs around his waist as he continued slowly, torturing me. “Sorry,” he murmured against my lips. “Sorry. So fucking sorry.”
