He laughed hoarsely. “How did I get so lucky?” And where was an inviting patch of moss or leaves when a man needed one? Because he needed onenow.
“I’m the lucky one. You know, I hated every simpering nobleman I ever met. I chose a tribal warrior for a reason.”
“Because I chased after you and wore you down.”
She huffed but didn’t deny it. They both knew it was true,although that didn’t mean the same outcome wouldn’t have eventually happened in Thalyria. Their souls had been trying to come together since the day they met. They just didn’t heed the clues.
“Find a good place to stop and we’ll see who wears who down,” she said in a tone that challenged. He smiled. Competing was another thing they’d done since day one.
Slowing, he looked around, Bel’s flickering brightness and the increasing moonlight showing him the ground. They were out of sight now and had to be well out of hearing distance from anyone across the river. The trees weren’t blackened here, and some open patches between roots and brambles looked like half decent places to claim a wife.
“I don’t think we’ll find better than this—unless you want to wait.” He let Bel’s legs swing down and steadied her as she got her balance.
“I donotwant to wait,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Grinning, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in close. The fiery glow in her hair and the blue-white light of the Shard of Olympus illuminated their little spot between the trees better than any moonlight. Warm Bel. Cool shard. The contrast ignited his senses. “I want to devour you.” Lifting his free hand, he gripped her nape, tipped her head back, and kissed her deeply. “There’s no part of you I’m not going to touch before this night is over.”
She flushed brighter, her warmth billowing around them. Reaching out, she unbuckled his belt, let it drop, and started pulling at his tunic. It was almost dry from holding her against him. Carver helped her lift it over his head and then tossed it to the ground—the beginning of a bed for them.
She kissed down his neck to his shoulder, then across his chest, her lips searing a trail across his skin. Her hands rose,sliding over him with a light-hot touch that both warded off the night chill and made him shiver. Part of him felt almost as though he watched from afar, disbelieving. Did he finally have what he wanted? A fierce, loyal, unwavering partner as devoted to him as he was to her?
Almost harshly, he said, “I’m going to spend eternity making sure I deserve you.”
She looked up, her lips parting. “I promise you the same,” she said in a low, sure voice that shocked him.
His eyes widened. That was a binding vow—one only he could ever release her from. Her trust in him staggered him—with her body, her heart, herexistence. Emotion ravaged his chest as she speared her fingers into his hair, moving against him. She licked the hollow of his throat, just as she’d done back home, and he exhaled roughly, need surging inside him.
“You taste like river water and a forest fire,” she panted against his skin.
A smile jerked at his lips. He tugged up her tunic and lifted it over her head, adding it to his on the ground. Holding her hips, he dipped his head and slid an open-mouthed kiss over the top of her bound breasts. He unwound the strip of material from around her chest, and his tongue found her nipple, teasing it into hardness. When he had a delicious little peak, he bit down softly. She moaned, her whole body sinking into him.
“You’re a little smoky yourself,” he rasped against her breast.
Her fingers came back to his hair, clutching. “Residue of charred centaur?”
He chuckled. “Aren’t you romantic…” He kissed his way to her other breast, her magic-warm skin pebbling with goose bumps.
She paused, sudden stillness halting even her breath. “Should I be?”
He lifted his head, capturing her mouth again for a long, deep kiss. “You should be whatever the fuck you want, princess. As long as you’re mine.”
Her knees seemed to weaken, and he held her tight, loving that this woman who never used to want physical contact ran her hands all over his body and rolled her hips against his. She wanted more. She wantedhim. Breathing hard, his cock straining against his pants, he feasted on her lips and on her fast little gasps. He captured her soft sounds of arousal straight from her mouth, drinking them down like the wine he didn’t even think about for days on end now. She intoxicated him, but instead of dampening his senses, she set them alight.
He pulled back enough to remove the rest of his clothing. They still kissed, their lips clinging as Bel hastily did the same. They tossed their garments to the ground, and she turned her head, eyeing the pile as he kissed her neck and shoulder, his hands skating up her bare back under her disheveled braid. Her nipples brushed his chest. Desire rushed through his blood, and his shaft grew harder, pressing against her warm skin.
“Our marriage bed.” She tilted her chin to give him better access. “At least your wet pants might keep me from burning down the forest.”
A tortured moan escaped him. His fast-beating heart thumped his ribs. “You’re the most arousing woman without even trying. My cock is pulsing for you.”
“I know.” Her hair brightened from within, and the scent of sun-warmed cherries rose between them. “I can feel it.”
Carver groaned. Gods, he wanted her.
Kneeling, he spread their clothing more evenly in the mossy space between roots they’d found and then reached for her. “Come here and I’ll show you what else it can do.”
Biting her lip, she slid her hand into his and let him guideher down onto their makeshift bed. Front to front, legs tangled together, her voice a husky whisper, she said, “When did you know?” Her gleaming eyes flicked down, then up again, the fleeting glance away betraying a hint of shyness he knew wouldn’t last. “That you wanted this—me—like this?”
Gazing at her, he smoothed her hair back from her face, the locks warm and luminous but not burning. “If I’m honest?” She nodded, and he leaned in, kissing her as if they had all the time in the worlds and he wasn’t dying to sink inside her and feel her smoldering heat gripping him hard. “From the first time you walked across our living room in your nightgown.”
