It vanished into my hair.
51
TREW
Isi’s hair had come loose from its braid sometime during the night, spilling like liquid honey across my chest and the pillow we shared. Each strand caught the morning light, turning amber and gold.
I lay still, hardly daring to breathe, listening to the soft rhythm of her mumbling and savoring how, even in sleep, she edged closer to me. With rest, the sharp edges of wariness she wore like armor had melted away, leaving only the woman beneath. Her skin felt like warm silk beneath my fingers, and the scent of her hair filled my senses.
The sheets had tangled around our legs during the night, creating a cocoon of warmth and closeness that made the rest of the world feel very far away. Morning light pooled across her bare shoulder, and I memorized the way it illuminated the delicate line of her collarbone, the gentle curve of her arm.
She could haveanyone. Princes, kings, heroes from songs. Instead, she was here with the rebel accused of murder. I didn’t deserve this gift, but I’d worship it every day until I was worthy.
She stirred, a soft sound escaping her lips, and my heart stopped.
She was in my bed, in my arms, and in my life. I wondered if this was what peace felt like, holding the woman who owned my soul while the rest of the world waited.
“You’re still here,” I whispered, and the wonder in my voice betrayed how terrified I was that last night had just been a dream.
She’d soothed all my wounds. Seen who I was beneath the façade of a king.
And she was still here.
“Where else would I be?” she asked, like staying was the easiest choice in the world. Her sleepy smile could’ve brought kingdoms to their knees.
“Anywhere but in the arms of your enemy.”
“Your bed is surprisingly comfortable for an enemy’s.”
“Just my bed?”
“Your arms aren’t terrible either.”
Her words settled into me like they belonged there, like they’d been waiting for years for a place to land. I stroked the curve of her cheek, tracing down to her jaw, holding her face gently.
This fierce, brilliant, dangerous woman had chosen me. Not duty, not politics, not convenience. Me. The broken king who’d spent sixteen years fighting wars and building walls. She looked at all my jagged pieces and still called them beautiful.
I kissed her, pulling back, studying her face for…I wasn’t sure what.
Rejection?
Maybe.
I found something to cling to in her eyes, and that was all I needed to kiss her again, harder.
She curled her fingers into my hair, pulling me closer. The kiss sharpened, her breath mingling with mine, her body pressing flush to me under the tangled sheets. Heat coiled low in my spine, every bit of me aching to lose myself in her.
Every kiss with her felt like the first and last I’d ever need. Likeshe was bringing life back into parts of me I’d thought were dead. I could kiss her for a thousand years and still hunger for more.
Her lips parted, and I swept my tongue into her mouth, tasting her warmth and sweetness. She met me there, her tongue tangling with mine, the slow slide and retreat turning into something more urgent, more consuming.
I slid my fingers into her hair, stroking the silken strands. I wrapped my other arm around her waist, pulling her fully against me. The heat of her seeped into me, stoking the ache already bound tight in my chest.
She made a low sound, half sigh, half moan, and it shot straight through me. I deepened the kiss, angling my head to taste her more fully, tracing the shape of her mouth with my tongue. She answered by gripping my hair harder, tugging me closer still, as if we could reduce the distance between us down to nothing at all.
Her legs shifted, entwining with mine, before she lifted her knee, sliding it across my stiffening cock. The friction made me groan into her mouth. She swallowed the sound, feeding it back to me with a kiss that was all hunger and need.
I broke away only long enough to kiss across her jaw to the hollow beneath her ear. Her pulse fluttered, and I lingered there, tasting her warm skin before I sucked lightly, drawing another soft gasp from her.
