“Cason,” Brela whispered.
He shivered and stiffened at his name—she had so much power in saying it—but Brela didn’t give him time to argue.
Her body slid into the space between his legs where the fire blazed, knife raising to the tip of his chin. Lightly grazing. Lifting it gently. Forcing those stunning gray-blue eyes to meet her gaze so he could see her own desire, her own loss of control as she purred. “Stop. Counting.”
His body shook, but there was no denying that his eyes darkened with hunger. “This is a terrible idea, and yet…” Cason trailed off, his voice hoarse.
She only leaned closer, ignoring the shriek of resistance coming from the obsidian along her collarbone. Made herself press against every part of his tall body, and as her hips angled against his hardness, she couldn’t help but succumb to the flutter inside her lower stomach. That streaking pleasure that threatened to buckle her knees.
She regretted wearing the silvery-white shirt that the servants had left in her room. Hated that she’d given up Cason’s shirt, even if it was dirty, simply because the deep cut in the chest would have been so useful to distract him.
Though maybe she wouldn’t need it, because as she deliberately pressed her breasts against him, she could feel his heartbeat pick up.
Biting her lip to keep from letting out the noise that nearly burst at the heat rising in her core, Brela lifted her chin to keep her focus on that chiseled jaw that trembled with restraint.
“And yet?”
Another groan rumbled from Cason’s chest, his eyes darting to the hand and knife that still kept his attention on her. “And yet I can’t stop thinking of this morning and how desperately I wanted to kiss you. How easy it was to forget that we were surrounded by people when I could only think about burning your clothes off right there. How I had to avoid you all day because counting has done absolutely nothing to tame the fire inside my chest.”
“We’re alone now.” Brela sheathed the blade, rising on her toes as she leaned her mouth toward his ear. And with just a hint of smile, body throbbing with need, she whispered, “Let it burn, Cason.”
All restraint and tension broke.
Fire flared.
Brela didn’t know which came first—the crushing of Cason’s lips against hers or the crashing of her back against the bookcase as he thrust her into it.
His fingers plunged into her hair, gripping and commanding her to his mouth, his other arm circling around her waist to hold her close.
This was nothing like the man she had kissed in the inn. That chivalrous Captain Valkip knew what he was doing when it came to bodies, butfour hells, Cason’s hands were a storming inferno. His kiss was ravenous and his body was… oh gods, it was almost too much.
He tucked his chin back, breaking his lips from hers. When she opened her eyes, he stared back. That gray gaze had deepened to a steel blue, and suddenly she was all too aware of the shiver that involuntarily ran through her. Of how little controlshehad.
Brela barely sucked in a breath before his mouth was pressed against hers again. Her body pulsed, and that thrumming need had her parting her lips for him. Inviting.
Cason did not delay, his tongue sliding against hers, and his resounding moan nearly stopped her heart.
Bodies flush together, she could have sworn he was on fire—theywere on fire. Her hands roamed, fighting to touch every firm muscle, every defined inch of his shoulders, back, and chest. They dug into his hair, his shirt, desperate to keep him close.
She tilted her mouth, deepening that kiss to taste the flame licking through them.
Cason’s response wasn’t just a nip of teeth on her lower lip. No, it reverberated with every inch of his body. The thrust of his hips again, keeping her pressed against the bookcase. The grip of his hand that nudged under the hem of her shirt, burning fingers leaving trails of goosebumps over her skin. Rising to her ribs in teasing lightness despite the firm hold everywhere else. The brush of his tongue that had her nearly whimpering at every point of contact.
Until that hand under her shirt palmed her breast.
That pathetic whimper turned to gasping moan, her entire body arching into his touch.
Brela was completely at his mercy as his thumb grazed her nipple and sent burning pleasure across her skin toward the apex of her thighs. Seconds later, that feeling was gone as his hand left her skin, and the fire breather had the nerve to smile against her lips, knowing the groan she released was one of torture.
Two could play this game.
Her hands tore from their grasps against his shoulders, the path toward his belt clear.
But Cason’s mouth was no longer on hers as he dipped, hands sinking into her backside as he lifted her.
She was once again thrust into the bookcase. Tomes shook from their shelves and fell around them. Her arms clutched at his shirt, legs wrapping around him to keep steady—though she was anything but steady as the molten core of her pressed against his arousal.
Gods, she was trembling.
