“Yeah, we use that one.”
His lips were delectably close. She caught herself staring at them. The memory of the kiss they’d shared around the fire in Nochtbend made her stomach do a funny little flip and her heart thump like she’d flown for miles.
“I should cover that with a bandage so it doesn’t get all over everything.” She pulled away and strode back toward the bathroom.
He followed after her, a playful and somewhat predatory glint in his eye. She was sure now—Liam was looking at her like a man looks at a woman he wants, and the thought made her pulse sing. Looking at him through her lashes, she pressed a square of gauze over the wound and taped it into place, breathing deeply of the eucalyptus scent of the salve and the heady, masculine scent of man underneath.
Her hands were still on him when he asked gruffly, “Did you mean what you said before in the carriage?”
So close. His breath skated across her face. She met his gaze, enjoying the spark the hot look he gave her ignited within her. “About giving you permission to look at me? Yes, I meant it.”
His face took on that grumpy, churlish expression it had before, and she wondered if she’d made him angry. “I don’t like to play games, Charlotte. You’re beautiful. Mind-bendingly beautiful. But I’m not from here, and you know I can’t stay. If I… look at you like I want to look at you… I… I don’t want you to regret anything later. And I fucking never want it to get back to your uncles if you change your mind about anything that happens between us.”
The straightforward way he talked about it was refreshing to her, although a bit sad. On the one hand, she knew exactly where he stood. He wanted her, the same as she wanted him. But it was sad how transactional it all sounded, the end of their relationship decided before they’d even begun. She turned away and started washing her hands so he wouldn’t see the ridiculous and illogical disappointment on her face. “I know perfectly well the reality of our situation. If I give you permission, I give you permission. It’s no one else’s business but our own.”
She dried her hands off and turned back to him, tension building between them until the air seemed to crackle. But as moments passed and all he did was look at her, her spirits fell. She wondered what it was: her wings, her general eagerness, her admittance that there wasn’t much interest in her in Paragon. Why wouldn’t he touch her? Kiss her again like before? All he did was stare, like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. Eventually it made her uneasy and she had to act.
With a deep sigh, she stepped around him. “It’s late. Let me show you to your room.”
“’Kay,” he murmured, striding after her as she crossed the common area to her guest room door. She threw it open and stepped inside. “There are extra blankets and towels in the wardrobe. Everything else you might need should be in the cabinet in the bathroom.”
He stepped into the room behind her and closed the door, leaning his back against it.
She turned to him. “What are you doing?”
“You gave me permission to look at you. Can I touch you as well?”
She tilted her head. “Yes. Is that why you haven’t—?”
“We’ve only known each other a day, Charlotte. I was trying to follow your lead.” He pushed off the door and prowled toward her. “You’re very hard to read.”
“I’m not the one with a permanent scowl on my face.” She laughed lightly.
His eyes turned dark and brooding. “Do not. You simply don’t know me well enough to read my moods.”
She raised an eyebrow. “No? Okay, show me what you’re feeling right now.”
He swallowed, his eyes taking on the hooded quality of a man possessed with desire. Heat flared deep in her torso.
“Am I scowling now?”
“No.”
He stepped in closer, his hands taking her waist. His tongue licked along his bottom lip. “Can you guess what this expression is, Charlotte?”
She licked her own lips, suddenly breathless at his touch. “Hunger.”
Another smile, this one darker, wolfish. “I think we started something beside that fire tonight that needs to be finished.”
One large hand lifted, his fingers sliding into her hair, tugging at her scalp until she tipped her head back and gasped. The sound seemed to ignite something within him. His mouth met hers, capturing that tiny gasp, swallowing it whole. She melted against him.
He wasn’t gentle as their mouths collided, and she liked that. She was immortal, powerful enough to hurt him if she wanted to. He’d witnessed some of that tonight. And maybe that was why he gripped her tightly against him, almost desperately. She nipped his bottom lip and he growled, repositioning his mouth. His tongue swept in, tangling with hers, kindling something deep within her with every stroke.
She leaned more heavily against him. He spun her around until her back and wings were against the wall. Moving her feet farther apart, she pulled him closer so he could settle between her slightly bent knees. His body stretched against hers, his erection pressed long and hard against the sensitive spot between her legs. Rolling her hips, she rubbed against him. Mountain help her, he felt big everywhere. She wondered what a human looked like down there, if his dick was as big and broad as it felt. What that would feel like inside her. In her hand? In her mouth? Pounding into her?
He groaned, grinding against her. Both hands gripped her waist, then skimmed up her sides, his thumbs flicking across the tips of her breasts under her tunic. A soft moan left her throat, and he kissed her again. His hands kept going, sliding up her back to the base of her wings. She sighed at the feeling. His fingers in her feathers made her rub herself against him more urgently.
“My god, Charlotte, what are you doing to me?” he whispered against her lips. “I can’t stop touching you.” Gently he stroked the edges of her feathers, tracing her outer wing before he returned to massaging the place where they met her back.
