She frowned. She needed to move, not sit. “How is that going to?—”
“Kailia.” Her name was a growl that she felt all the way down to her toes.
Already backed up to the bed, she pushed onto her toes until she could slide up onto it. Then she stared at him, still not convinced this was going to do anything.
“What now?”
“I’m conflicted because seeing you in my shirt is making me feel all sorts of ways, but I also need you to take it off,” he answered.
“What?” she asked, looking down at the tunic and smoothing her hands over it.
“Take it off, Kailia,” he repeated, his tongue running across his lower lip again. “Unless we’re stopping?”
“No,” she answered, because she was more than curious and him watching her was making something warm in her belly.
Reaching for the hem, she pulled it over her head, leaving herself bare before him. Nudity was nudity. This didn’t bother her. But hearing the rumble that sounded from the male across the room, it affected him. His teeth raked over his lip this time, and his head tilted as he shifted on his feet again.
“Fuck. This was simultaneously the best idea I’ve ever had and the worst,” Cethin muttered, swiping a hand over his mouth. His eyes darted from her chest to her face and back to her breasts, his hands fisting at his sides now, and how could he make her feel…whatever this was just from him looking at her?
“That is a confusing statement,” she murmured, her voice breathy.
“Well aware.”
“What next?” she asked.
Somehow this was working. Somehow, he was distracting her from the anxious thing that needed out in the same way he’d distracted her during their initial dance tonight.
“I want to kiss you,” he breathed, his hands fisted at his sides so tightly his knuckles were white even against his pale skin.
But his words made her remember the feel of his mouth on hers, soft and hungry. Unconsciously, she brought her fingers to her lips. “I think I want that too,” she replied softly.
The sound that came from Cethin soundedpained, but he said, “I know you do, but I swore to stay over here. I keep my promises, wife.”
“Okay,” she whispered, finding herself disappointed in that answer.
“I can’t touch you, so I need you to do it,” he continued.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, the agony gone, replaced with that icy darkness. “Start at your throat and drag your fingers down.”
This felt like too much. Awkward and exposed, but he was watching her, eager and needy. There was a power here that she hadn’t expected. The same power she’d recognized that day in the tub, and she liked control. He might be telling her what to do, but the knowledge that she was in control had her bringing her fingers to her neck. Brushing them along her throat. Dragging them along her collarbone. Holding his stare.
The restlessness in her soul was shifting. Gooseflesh popped up under the touch, her nerve endings hyperaware to every sense right now.
“Don’t touch your breasts. Go between them,” he ordered when she started dragging her fingers down her chest.
The idea of anyone giving her orders like this should irritate her, but it didn’t. Instead, she was dragging her fingers through the valley of her breasts, watching him watching her.
“Keep going,” he growled as she made her way down to her navel. But when she paused above the apex of her thighs, he said, “More.”
One word.
One word that she felt in her soul, her core clenching, andgods. How?
“Kailia, don’t make me say it again. Move your fingers,” he said with a snarl. His feet were still planted, but he was leaning forward, straining to see. The position had the muscles in his abdomen tensed and flexing.
Slowly, she moved her fingers again. Lower and lower until she could press them between her legs. Her hips lifted, and a surprised gasp came from her. How was she this sensitive from nothing but the brush of her own fingers? What would it feel like if they were his? Would his hands be like his lips?
