But you should pity me.”
Oh, I sigh, mercifully inside my own mind. His words rattle through me and sink their teeth deep into my bones. My entire body warms at the deep rumbles of his voice. He speaks the bard’s prose so eloquently, breathes new life into them.
I know the scene, of course, but I don’t waste time on the implications of Bes quoting that particular soliloquy. I merely allow the words to wind their way along my heart.
Too enraptured to notice before, one of his hands has come to rest on the ladder rung inches from my cheek, the other on a shelf unfairly close to my hip. Him not touching me might constitute as torture.
His movements I could mistake for only a primal desire, but his dark eyes betray him. In them, I find understanding, warmth, softness, curiosity, and something more. Something I won’t dare name.
His nearness casts a hot, dizzying spell over me. I shouldn’t want this—wanthim—as much as I do. If I truly consider what’s brought Bes and I to this point, it’s been a lie in some form or another. In this moment, though, I don’t care about any of that.
I have only one thought in my head, and it’s how much I want him to touch me. Iachefor it.
When I don’t make a move to stop him, he shifts into me further. A lock of his dark hair falls across his face as he dips his head painfully unhurried. My grip tightens on the shelf as he stops right before our lips touch.So close, not nearly close enough.
Waiting for him, my body has become both heavy and light, and I swear I might burst if he doesn’t do something to end my suffering. I lift my chin a fraction, my fingers desperate to reach for him, tofeelhim, even as I refuse to move them.
His hands haven’t moved either, and while I don’t think I’m misreading this, I don’t want to push him. If I do, I might push him away altogether—
His eyes flutter closed, and he jars me out of my spiral with one word, one perfect syllable: “Mel.”
I have a visceral, unmitigated reaction to it, of hearing my name on his lips for the first time—my back arches, releasing myhands and forcing my chest and hips to graze his. He sucks in an uneven breath and his eyes fly open. Want pools in my stomach at the sound, from the way our bodies touch. I place my hands on his chest, his heart thrumming beneath my palms.
When our noses brush, I swear my breath stalls, my eyes shuttering on their own accord.
A moment passes before his lips sweep across mine, soft and warm and perfect. Just as I imagined they would be.
His gentleness sets my entire body on fire, even as I crave more.
I grasp at his shirt to bring him nearer. His fingers beside my hip slide into my belt loop, dragging me closer still. His thumb brushes the material of my button-up directly above my waist band, taking its time with long, languid strokes. My fingers press against the base of his neck, gently digging into his skin at the sensation.
In response, his other hand takes its rightful place against my cheek, his touch so heady I can no longer think. He slides his thumb beneath my chin and presses upward, drawing my lips deeper against his and capturing me wholly. I gasp at his touch, his boldness. My chest grazes his again as he opens his mouth to match me, deepening the kiss. A small moan pierces the silence, pleasure zinging along my limbs and pooling in my core.
I can barely breathe, and I don’t care.
God, I’ve wanted this for so long, pictured it happening more times than I care to admit. But even my imagination couldn’t have prepared me for this. Bes and I fit together like two puzzle pieces; when I move, he moves, and I don’t want it to stop. I never want it to stop.
My hand shifts to the back of his neck. Even now, I ache to be closer to him. He seems to feel the same: tipping his head slightly, he flicks his tongue against mine.Oh God.I press my hips into his, the warmth in my core pooling lower and lower…right as his thumb brushes the slight curve of my breast. My entire being ignites, the ache inside me becoming untenable. I—
“Bes, where’d you run off to?” a familiar, faraway voice wonders.
“Dammit,” Bes growls against my lips.
My eyes wrench open.
He jerks away from me, the movement so quick, I could swear it’s inhuman. Another blink and he’s at the archway, tucking his hair manically behind his ears a few times before poking his head out. I shiver at the absence of his warmth, of the confusion sweeping through me.
Why did he stop?
“For the gods’ sakes, what do you want, Cec?”
“What are you doing in there?” Cec wonders.
“Nothing important,” Bes insists, his words piercing my heart with a sharpened blade. “Can’t a man have some peace and quiet for five bloody seconds?”
Cec says something in return, but I can’t hear him over the torrent between my ears.
Nothing important.
