The four parts of the elongated oval represent the four elements—earth, fire, wind, and water. Curling blue waves clash against brown rock, and orange flames lick white clouds representing the air. In the daytime, it stains the room—a forgotten, boarded up attic at the top of the temple—a mix of colors to match my crazy bedclothes.
Yalina does a quick circuit of the room and then stands by the ledge looking out over the city. “You really can see the palace from here.”
“Told you it was nice.” I really wish I had something tasty to eat or something to drink other than water. I make a poor host. My smile falls. “Sorry. It’s not much.”
She turns to me, and I’m lost in the depths of her eyes for a moment. She steps closer, and my body lights up with energy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Uh huh.” I am mesmerized by the way her full lips move as she talks.
“What if you only had one night of freedom, to do anything you wanted? What would you do with it?”
I’m drawn toward her like the little brown moths that sometimes dash into the flame of my lamp at night. What would it be like to run my fingertips over that perfect, impossibly smooth brown skin?
What did she ask me again? “Why only one night?”
“Because I have to get married.”
Ah, so this is her last breath of air before she submits to a match she doesn’t want. A final hurrah, a daring adventure.
I can understand that. I’d do the same thing in her shoes. Hell, I’d probably run away rather than marry someone I didn’t love or commit to anything I didn’t want with my whole heart. “It doesn’t matter what I’d do,” I tell her softly. “What would you do? What do you want?”
I guess I asked the right question, because her pupils dilate and her gaze drops to my lips. “I would find out what passion tastes like before I run out of time.”
Something sizzles between us, like flame consuming all the air, leaving me hot and tingling all over. Yalina tips up her chin, slides her arms around my neck, and kisses me. I’m dragged under a wave of desire and lust so powerful I can’t do anything but give in to it.
She’s just as perfect as I imagined, perfumed and sweet and still tasting slightly of sugar. Beneath that there’s a richness, a power that burns bright. It flares until I’m blinded to anything else but the feel of her lips on mine, the urge to keep tasting, exploring, taking what shouldn’t be mine.
Coaxing her lips apart, I tease at her mouth with my tongue until she lets me in. She moans as I slide my lips and tongue against hers, picking up this new skill as quickly as she picked up the climb to my attic room.
Soon she’s all but taken over, threading her fingers through my hair, pushing back the scarf until it drops to the floor and her hands can rove over my neck and shoulders restlessly.
Her body presses against mine, supple and curved and feminine in a way that makes me long to grab her, press her down against the mattress, cup handfuls of her ass, her breasts.
I don’t want to scare her, though. My errant rich girl has probably never had anyone take such liberties with her body before, so I hold myself back, trying to stop my swollen and aching cock from nudging into her belly and alarming her.
She tugs at the hem of my tunic, pulling it up and sliding her hands beneath it. My muscles jump to attention, and something else jumps too, needy for her touch, wanting to be free.
She giggles, teasing her fingers over my sides, finding all the exquisitely sensitive places—well, some of them.
“Is this OK? Can I touch you here?”
“You can touch me anywhere.” The words come out in a rush before I have time to think about them. I’m not really expecting her to act on them.
Next moment her hands dip under the waistband of my trousers and my brain pretty much turns to mush. I melt in her hand like the spun sugar when she wraps her small fist around me experimentally. I can’t help the way my hips thrust forward.
She looks up at me in wonder. “You are so hot here. And so smooth.”
“And hard as fucking stone,” I mutter, dying a little more as her tentative touch strokes me down and up. The lamp flame flickers as pleasure courses through me.
“Hmm?” She is distracted, and frankly, so am I. What am I doing? I should be touching her, kissing her. Not standing here stupidly with my dick in her hand like I have no idea how to please a lady.
“Do you want to see all of me?” My voice comes out more like a croak, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
She grins. “Yes please.”
Dear gods, when she levels that warm smile at me, I am nothing more than a puddle at her feet. Quickly I strip my trousers off, taking her hands and drawing her down onto the bed with me. She follows me easily, eyes sliding over my form like her hands did before. The sensation is almost as intense. I stretch out, trying to look casual but inside secretly dying for her to touch me again.
Yalina stretches out beside me and wriggles closer. Then she reaches out and strokes up my thigh until her questing fingers find my cock once more.
