Immediately, he reaches out and takes my hand, then nods. “We’re holding hands now.”
A laugh slips out, despite how hard I try to hold it back. “But is this romantic?”
He seems to consider that for a second, watching me carefully, the wind blowing around us, and his hand holding mine. A minute ago, this walk felt the furthest thing from romantic, but now I can feel the heat building between us. I just wonder if he even feels it. These men, all three of them, feel like creatures from another world, who have only watched romance from afar, but never participated in it.
Alaric drops my hand, then takes a step closer. I watch him, trying to decide what he’s thinking as he looks down at me, but he almost looks more unsure than I do as he lowers his head.
That’s the thing about these men too. As little as they know about romance, they seem to know a hell of a lot about lust, and Alaric is no exception. His kiss isn’t gentle. It isn’t hesitant. It’s the kind of kiss that steals the ground out from under me. The ocean roars near us, wind whipping my clothes around my body, but his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into him, making me feel anchored, braced, wanted.
I curl my fingers into the front of his shirt, holding on partly for balance and partly because I need him closer, closer than the air, closer than my own shadow. He tastes like salt and warmth and something faintly sweet, like berries. When he deepens our kiss, my knees nearly give out, and he makes a low sound, half groan, or maybe a half growl, like he likes that a little too much.
By the time he finally eases back, brushing his forehead against mine, I’m breathless, flushed, and trembling just a little. He smiles, slow, wicked, unbearably confident.
“Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says.
I swallow, heart racing like a trapped bird. “I think the whole damn ocean felt that.”
He laughs.
I smile, happy to be in his arms. “I think I just need a little more of this. Not just to be touched. I need to be near you. I need to see you care about me, that you think about me.”
“I think about you too much,” he admits, a husky note to his voice.
Lifting a brow, I say, “Not just sexually. I want to know that we can be more to each other.”
“We are more to each other.”
“It feels that way, but I’m not sure I can even trust my own instincts anymore,” I admit.
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them once more. “Trust your instincts, and I’ll do better. I’ll… try to be patient, even though feeling you with my brothers and the Hollowborn is torture.”
“Sorry,” I tell him honestly. “I don’t want you to feel that way. I hate that you’ve had to feel that way.”
He keeps holding me as he says, “My brothers I can almost forgive, but the Hollowborn? What has he done to earn your heart so fast?”
“This might be hard to hear, but Sevrin has been wonderful to me since the very beginning. He doesn’t make me wonder how he feels. He doesn’t make me question whether or not I can trust him. He’s just open with me.”
He gives a miserable little laugh. “Honesty. Something none of the Stormvales are very good at.”
I shrug, giving him a smile. “I think you could be.”
“I just want you to know that I’m very good with learning anything I set my mind to, and I’ve set my mind to learning how to make you happy, how to steal your heart.”
“So I should watch myself,” I tease.
He steers me back until I hit the outside of the wall. “Alaric…” I begin, uncertain.
“There are a lot of things you’ll find I’m very good at as a man who is extremely focused and detail-oriented.”
My pulse picks up. “Oh yeah?”
He starts to kiss me again. A hard kiss. A break. A hard kiss. And a break.
“I’ve been told I know how to kiss a woman.”
“Oh?” is all I can manage.
He kisses me harder. Deeper. Then undoes the front of my pants.
