“It’s also true.” He lifted one hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. That same gesture—always that same gesture—made her go still every time, no matter how much she braced for it. It was as if he did it unconsciously, as if he planned for it.
“We go as slow as ye like. We stop when ye say stop. And if ye want to change yer mind entirely and go back to yer own chambers, I’ll walk ye there meself.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Ye’d do that?”
“Without argument.”
“That might be the most attractive thing ye’ve ever said to me.”
The corner of his mouth moved. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She reached up and placed her hand flat against his chest, not pressing down. Just resting there, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her palm.
“I daenae want to stop,” she said.
He covered her hand with his.
He kissed her, and this time there was nothing tentative about it.
She kissed him back with both hands on his shirt, and he slowly walked her backward until she felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her knees. She sat down on it and looked up at him standing over her, and it should have felt unequal, that angle, but it didn’t.
“Still all right?” he said.
“Ask me that one more time, and I’ll make ye sleep in the corridor.”
He laughed genuinely, low and surprised. She felt it in her chest—the sound and how it transformed his entire face. She hadn’t heard him laugh like that before. Truly.
It was a good sound.
“Noted,” he said, and came down to sit beside her.
She turned toward him and properly got her hands into his shirt, untucking it. Her fingers found warm skin at his waist, and she heard his breath change.
“
He eased her back against the pillows, and she let him, looking up at him as he leaned over her, his weight on one forearm beside her head.
“Ye’re starin’,” she said.
“Aye.” He didn’t stop.
“It’s disconcertin’.”
“Ye’re in me bed,” he said. “I intend to look.”
Her face warmed, which she thought was ridiculous given the circumstances. She looked at the ceiling instead, which made him let out a low sound that might have been amusement.
“Ye can look at me too,” he said. “If ye like.”
She looked back at him.
He was watching her with that particular steadiness, the kind that made her feel like she was being truly seen—not judged ormeasured, just seen. It stirred something in her chest, causing her to relax.
“I like the way ye are right now,” she said.
“Hmmm…”
“It’s,” She considered the word. “Nice. Actually.”
