“‘Never’ is not a word within my vocabulary.”
I rolled my eyes, saw the answering flash of annoyance in his. And yet, surely he could understand my reluctance to take a theoretical marriage seriously. “Can we step out of the twilight zone now and concentrate on real matters?”
“If you insist.” He paused. “I would prefer to discuss said matters seated, however. Standing here will get uncomfortable in the long run.”
Once again, a smile tugged at my lips. “Are we talking chair comfortable or bed comfortable?”
“A sofa or two chairs would be safer. My control should we share a bed would be severely tested.”
“A Myrkálfar admitting to a lack of control? Shocking.”
“Almost as shocking as the depths of my desire for you.”
It was dryly said and yet edged with a deeper emotion that had my pulse soaring. “And yet, here we stand, neither of us acting on those desires.”
“Do you wish there to be action on said desires?”
“Despite the fears that still rage, yes, I believe I do.”
“Then I am ecstatic to comply.”
I laughed, and he caught my hand, tugging me into his embrace. His body was hard against mine, his flesh heated, and his erection fierce. The man really didwant. He didn’t say anything, however; he just kissed me. And oh, what a kiss. It was soft and passionate, demanding and yet not. It made promises the man couldn’t possibly keep, and yet there was more than a small part of me that wanted to believe. Wanted to trust that, against impossible odds, it would somehow work out for us.
After what seemed forever, he pulled back, though thankfully not far. His breathing was harsh and heated against my kiss-swollen lips, and his lust was a thick cloud that smothered, making it even harder to breathe.
“Consider me convinced about the depths of your desire,” I murmured, my voice breathy and almost inaudible. “I believe we should reconsider the option to take this to bed.”
“Taking it to bed rather than talking is part of our whole problem,” he replied. “Do not get me wrong. I want nothing more than to bury myself in your flesh right now, but?—”
I didn’t let him finish. I grabbed his shirt, pulled him close again, and kissed him with all the fervent desire that burned through me. Talking wasn’t going to solve the problems that lay between us. Neither would sex, but it at least held the promise of a satisfying ending.
He groaned softly against my lips, then his arms went around me again, and our kiss deepened, became hot and hungry and desperate. His fingers slid under my sweatshirt, sending delicious tingles of desire skittering across my flesh as his touch slowly—agonizingly slowly—moved up toward my breasts. When he caught and gently squeezed one puckered nipple, I gasped and arched into him, pressing my mound against him, feeling his instinctive reaction even through the weight of his jeans.
He chuckled softly. “You win. Let’s take this to bed.”
“And how do we bring said bed to life in this place?”
“Imagine what you want, and it will be.”
“I want you naked and in me, and that isn’t happening.”
His laugh was a soft and decidedly wicked sound. “Imagine the bed, Bethany. Once it becomes a reality, me losing myself in your magnificence will definitely follow.”
Somewhat impulsively, I imagined a big four-poster bed with lots of impractical pillows and a thick and luscious comforter. The air vibrated briefly, and Cynwrig once again laughed. “Well, that is certainly a little grander than what I was expecting.”
I turned. Grand was an understatement. Aside from the fact it was huge, it was heavily carved with vines and leaves that ran through the range of autumn colors. It wasn’t painted—it was in fact living wood, however impossible that might be—and its song ran rich and wild through the air and my body, fueling those inner fires to even greater heights. Pillows lined the bedhead, layers of red and gold velvet, while the comforter was also velvet, but a deep green that reminded me of a thick carpet of grass.
“It is a little over the top, isn’t it?” I replied, amused.
“It is, but this place does tend to take ideas and run them to the extreme end.” He caught my hand and led me over. “Shall we undress each other?”
“As long as it doesn’t take forever. I might spontaneously combust if it does.”
“Impatience. I like it.” He caught the ends of my sweater and lifted it up and over my head. Then he cupped my breasts in his big, powerful hands and began to lick and kiss and tease, until I really could take no more and growled for him to keep moving down.
He did so, slowly slipping my sweatpants and knickers down my body. I kicked them off, then gasped as his fingers slipped between my legs, finding my clit, sliding through the wetness, teasing me, taunting me, bringing me to the very edge, then pulling away again.
“Oh,” I growled softly, “you’re going to pay for that.”
