Who you wantstill tainted the air between them, and Carver’s temper flared again. He waited a calming moment. It wasn’t Bel’s fault she hadn’t understood his signals. He hadn’t really understoodhimselfuntil very recently, and Bel wasn’t good atreading people unless they were coming at her with the intent to kill.
Voice softening, he took a slow step closer. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
Her mouth squashed into a tight seam, and Carver got the impression she was arguing with herself behind closed lips. Finally, she said, “Don’t you get it? I’m all sharp edges and burns. I don’t know how to kiss. I don’t want to be touched.” Doubt flashed in her eyes. A flush swept over her face, and he wondered how sure she was of her words.
He forced his hands to relax and his whole posture followed. He didn’t reach for her even though every beat of his heart begged him to. “Then you do the touching,” he said. “I won’t move. Just do what you want.”
Bright crimson splashed across her pale skin. Sparks zipped down her curls, outlining each one in reddish gold. She stared at him, and unease sank through him like a ship with holes.
The moment stretched on without either of them moving.Good gods. I reallyaman idiot.He was about to back away and apologize when Bel lifted her hand.
“Touch how?” she asked, cautiously reaching out.
Chapter 17
Carver’s pulse hurtled through his veins. Voice hoarse, heart pounding, he said, “Touch me any way you want.”
They both watched Bel’s hovering hand move closer. She finally placed her palm over his quickly beating heart, and his breath shuddered out.
“Did I hurt you?” She started to drop her hand away, but Carver caught it and brought it back.
“No.” He let go quickly after pressing her hand harder against his chest. “You’re hot but not burning. You won’t hurt me anywhere except my back.”
Her glittering, blue-green eyes flicked up, more stunning than the sea. “I should be doing the promising. I could burn you alive, even by accident.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that.” Slowly, she moved her hand toward his neck, sliding a finger along his collarbone and into the hollow of his throat. “Ican’t know that.” Cocking her head, she dipped her finger into the V where his tunic laced up.
Desire leaped in his blood. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed out.
Bel scoffed, her intent gaze still focused on his throat. Her hand lingered on the cord of the necklace she’d given him months ago before leaving together on another mission, the blue-and-white eye to ward off malevolence tucked safely under his tunic. “Eryx didn’t blind you, did he?”
Carver shook his head. His whole body ached for more of her touch. “You smell like almond cream and cooked cherries with sugar baked on top. I want to lick you.”
Her eyes jerked back up, round with shock. “Do people do that?”
His mouth watered for her right now, all his senses alive with want. “Of course. Why not?”
Her jaw slid open. Then she shuffled closer and lifted to her toes. “Like this?” Bracing her hand on his chest, she leaned forward and ran her tongue up the entire column of his neck.
A strangled sound tore from Carver’s throat. Arousal shot scorching blood toward his cock. “That’s a good start.” A little abrupt and unexpected, but perfectly Bel. He clenched and unclenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. She smoldered enough to warm his entire front, but she controlled her flames, and all he felt was a heavy, pressing lust and a deeper need so powerful it clamped down on every part of him like a vise. “You can do it again,” he rasped.
Her face stayed a nervous pink, but she tipped forward and flicked her tongue into the V of his neck. Carver groaned and went fully hard. Leave it to Bel to skip kissing and go straight to licking. He supposed he’d brought it up.
She did it again, her soft tongue swirling against his desire-hot skin, and he took a steadying breath. He wanted her, all of her, in every way possible, and keeping still and not reciprocating was proving a bigger challenge than he’d thought.
Rocking back on her heels, she peered up at him with a frown. “You don’t taste like anything. You smell a bit like cedar, though.”
He chuckled at her blunt assessment—also so perfectly Bel. “It’s my soap.” Carver fought the urge to wrap his arms aroundher and lower his mouth to hers. It would be the most searing kiss of his life—he had no doubt.
Bel moved forward again and stuck her nose against his neck. She inhaled deeply, and Carver shuddered, every muscle achingly taut. She exhaled a warm breath against his skin, then inhaled again. “I like your soap.”
“Glad to hear it,” he croaked. She was always buying little cedar boxes to stash her smaller belongings in. He knew she liked the smell of it, which was probably why he always chose this soap.
She bit her lip, uncertainty clouding her expression again. “What else should I do?”
He had a thousand ideas, and they clamored to come out. But this was about Bel understanding that there were no rules other than respecting what your partner liked. Maybe then, she’d let go of her fear. “There is no ‘should.’ Just explore however you want.”
