“Until we know you won’t launch yourself from a window, I thinkI’ll have to.”
Who knew how long that would take? “Won’t you miss your own bed? You might not sleep as well here.”
Why in the Domus are you giving him reasonsnotto stay?Because I was a blubbering idiot. That’s why.
The side of his lips curved up. “It’s no burden to stay with you. Trust me,” he drawled, effectively closing my mouth. Then he walked to my bed, where he toed off his boots and then tugged off his tunic.
Unable to help it, I took in the muscles and scars along his torso, watching his arms flex as he gripped the fabric and tossed it to the floor. His knives landed on top of it, within easy reach of the mattress. It really was unfair for any man to be built as he was.
He caught my greedy eyes, and I fumbled for something to say. “I…did you need to do that?”
His small smile expanded into one that was all rogue. “I grew up sleeping outside in the cold. I get hot at night in these rooms.”
Yes, of course. It wasn’t as if he was stripping for my pleasure.
I approached the bed before I could make a bigger fool of myself, carefully crawling in beside him as he stretched out, his feet nearly hanging off the end.
“You know, as Princeps, nothing is stopping you from sleeping outside in the garden where it’s cooler.”
Harthon turned onto his side and propped himself on an elbow, facing me. “Stripping seems to work just fine, but if you’d rather we sleep together outside stuffed in layers of clothing, we can do that.”
We both knew I’d rather be enveloped in his heat against his bare skin, but I’d be damned to say that out loud. “I’ve never had a comfortable bed until now. I want to use it as much as possible,” I replied instead, trying to relax against my pillow.
Instead of relaxing, though, my body only came more alive with awareness. As if under a compulsion, I couldn’t stop my eyes fromtracing the thick arm that propped him up, following that tanned skin to his sculpted chest and the dusky nipples there, up the thick cords of his neck, and back to his face.
Harthon stilled. “And how do you want to use this comfortable bed?”
There was a spark low in my abdomen. “For sleep,” I whispered.
For a moment, he lay there unmoving. Evaluating. Then he reached out, tracing the hair that swooped across my cheekbone and disappeared behind my ear. The skin of his fingertips was rough, but the touch was almost unbearably light. “Anything else?”
From the way he studied me with such clear intent, eyes nearly black, I knew it was an invitation. “Maybe for other things, too,” I breathed, too cowardly to tell him what I really wanted.
My evasion didn’t deter him in the slightest.
“Other things like this?” he said, and then the fingers on my hair turned into a hand that cupped the back of my head, holding me in place as he leaned in.
He kissed me softly, a gentle mingling of our lips, before pulling away a heartbeat later. Far too soon. I needed so much more.
“Yes, things like that,” I said, and then I closed my eyes and brought my lips to his before my mind could stop me.
Kissing was new to me. Desire wrestled with inhibition as I did my best to mimic him, slowly working at his lips. He lightly kissed me back, but it lacked the hunger he’d shown in the tower.
You’re butchering this.
I stopped, embarrassment hitting swiftly as I pulled away. I was assuming too much. Maybe he was actually here to sleep, or would rather be kissing someone else who actuallyknewwhat they were doing—
There was a rumble in his throat, almost a growl, and a second later, I found myself staring up at the shadowed ceiling. Lightningquick, he rolled his mass on top of me, bracing himself on his elbows. Thickly muscled thighs pressed into mine, trapping them there.
“We should stop,carella. But I find that I can’t.”
His lips descended, and then they devoured. Hands tangling in my hair, the kiss was slow like before, but this time, it was demanding. Gone was the patient introduction from the tower. He offered no escape, and I asked for none, losing myself in the feel of him. His teeth scraped across my lips, and then his tongue swooped in, exploring with a practiced finesse and fierceness that belonged only to Harthon. The fluttering in my belly exploded into fire, and a muffled moan traveled out of my throat. He hummed in response, the guttural sound vibrating against my chest that was suddenly aching, arching toward him, seekingsomething.
My hands found his arms, wrapping around the veined muscles there, just as I felt a hand at the edge of my tunic.
He tore his mouth away, breathing heavily. “Let me touch you.”
I panted, lips swollen, hardly even able to think. From the way he waited, it was a request for permission, not a demand. I nodded, wanting him to return, wanting him to fuel that throbbing heat.
