But it wasn’t enough. Not after almost losing him.
I gripped his bloodied vest and rose to my toes, pressing my mouth more firmly to his. My hips followed, my fingers curling around his shoulders in a sudden, greedy desperation. An irrational sense of urgency crashed down, like he could be stolen away from me at any moment. And, skies, it was true—it had never been so apparent as when that giant had nearly bashed his head in.
A deep rumble reverberated in his throat, and my urgency seemed to flow right into him. He released my face to grip the back of my head, his other arm wrapping tightly around my back, capturing me in his embrace as his kiss turned feverish.
It was like we were trying to swallow one another, teeth scraping, his shadow of a beard abrading my skin I whimpered into his mouth. His hands skimmed down to my ass, fingertips bruising as he hefted my hips closer to where he was hard and hot. My core pulsed, shooting a current of need up my spine.
He abruptly tore his mouth away. “The way you make me feel,” he cursed through swollen lips, his hips pulsing into mine as his fingers dug further into my skin.
“Don’t stop.” My whisper was one of unabashed need.
His eyes closed and he dropped his forehead to mine, breathing heavily through his nose. His hard length pressed against my belly as his hips jerked again. “We need to,” he gritted out.
I nudged his nose and found his mouth again. He gave in, meeting my tongue stroke for stroke, until we parted to breathe and he shook his head. This time, his grip on me began to loosen. Something like pain creased his forehead.
Skies,he was injured, and here I was, mauling him. I yanked my hands back like they’d found hot coals. “Where do you hurt?”
“Believe me,carella, it isn’t that.” His eyes opened, and the look he gave me was all heat. It only intensified when he said, “No injuries could stop me from taking you to bed, giving into the animal inside of me, and burying myself inside you so completely that you won’t be able to walk without thinking of me for days.”
The crude words zipped right to the juncture of my thighs. Never had he spoken to me in such a way. When it came to intimacy, he’d always been tender and gentle. Painstakingly slow and somewhat teasing. But now I was wondering if he’d been holding back, tempering the part of him that was rough and primitive.
I was desperate to know.
“Is that what it’s like, after a battle?”
“That’s what it’s like fairly often,” he answered, his voice like gravel. “But especially after a fight.”
So hehadbeen holding back.
I swallowed, not understanding how the admission was winding me tighter. “When will I get to experience it?”
Perhaps he thought it would scare me, but from my body’s current response, I wanted to open the gates. I wanted to set this man, all of him, free.
My response wasn’t what he’d been expecting, because he blinked. He recovered quickly, and when he did, those fingers tightened all over again. “As soon as we are somewhere I can wholly consume you.”
All at once, he released me, stepping back, though it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do.
Cool air rushed in to replace that heat, and I willed it into my body. Harthon was right. Even with one of our men standing guard outside and the wolf, this was no time to get lost in each other.
And despite what he said, he was hurting.
“In that case, allow me to tend to you while you stand vigilant guard.”
He nodded toward the small washing basin. “You first.”
“No.” I reached for his bicep. When he started to object, I said, “You’re not arguing with me. Come here.”
He let me drag him to the wash basin, albeit unhappily. Several rags, a threaded bone-carved needle, and what looked like stale soap were neatly stacked beside it.
“Take your vest and tunic off,” I instructed.
“I’m not putting my weapons down.”
I lifted a brow. “Then hand them to me while you take off your vest and tunic, and put them back on your bare skin.”
He exhaled, glanced at the tent’s entrance, and begrudgingly pulled the straps over his head.
So the man didn’t like to be taken care of.
