“I—” His eyes went wide, but apparently not in horror, as his fingers dug into her hips, holding her against him.
“I’m not sure that’s an answer,” she teased before kissing over his beard, rubbing her lips on the rough bristles along his jaw, and she was rewarded with another groan.
He gazed up at her, his eyes half-open. “You have to understand, I’ve been dreaming about you since the last time, so my mind is a little foggy sorting out options.”
“Have you now?” Her eyes twinkled with pleasure, and the humming was accompanied by tingles, echoing in all the places their last encounter had brought to life.
“Oh yes.” He gave her a near wicked grin, which made her yearn for him and only him.
“I’ve thought about you too,” she confessed as she hitched her skirts so she could wrap her legs around his waist and sit, body to body.
“Really?” His voice was reedy but he licked his lips.
Power surged through her, mixing with desire, overwhelming all sense or doubts.
“At night.” She rubbed her already aching nipples against him. “Alone in my room.”
“Isabelle.” He groaned and that only heightened the wicked, wanton thrill that her name on his lips inspired.
“I want you to tell me, Aaron.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders, as if she could somehow hold him and this moment forever. “I want the words.”
His eyes grew even wider, but as the words settled on her ears, the truth of them shuddered through her. She didn’t just want the words. She needed them. She cupped his chin so she could gaze into his eyes. “I want you to make me believe you want me as a person, not as a chess piece—that this is different than the game I’m playing with the rest.”
Aaron rocked up so he could take her lips in his. Isabelle closed her eyes, allowing their tongues to mingle, to pleasure each other as the heat built once more, dark and strong and heady. He pulled back and shook his head. “You’re no chess piece. No prize to be won. And you are most certainly a person.” He licked his lips again, the heat back in his eyes. “A person I very much want to make come.”
She laughed.
“Is that too crude?” He wrinkled his nose, an almost worried gaze on his face.
“I like crude.” Her voice was a little raspy. “It’s real. So little in my world is real. Especially now. And it will only grow more confusing, it seems.” She bent to nuzzle his neck. “Please give me real.”
“You shall have real.” Mischief sparked in his eyes. “If you remove that.” He indicated her gown.
Her breath hitched. Wicked wasn’t the half of it. They were outside, and while the garden was walled and it was dark and everyone was asleep and they were beneath an ornamental arch, their privacy wasn’t guaranteed. The house still had windows. Which shouldn’t send a thrill up her spine but somehow did. The danger, the excitement, and more the fact that they were partners in it, doing it together—Isabelle shivered before undoing her sheath and laying it and her sword on the ground. Closing her eyes, she whipped her gown over her head.
Her nudity should make her nervous. But now, when she was there with him and he was gazing at her with something almost like awe, there was only anticipation.
“All right, I did your bidding.” She held up her chin. “But you have to remove your garments as well.”
“Do I now?” He bit his lip. “But I wanted to have you do that for me.”
Fire—that was what was now spreading through her veins. God, she needed him, every moment she could have.
“That can be arranged,” she managed, her voice husky. Hands shaking only a little, she pushed off his jacket and undid every single one of his buttons. His chest moved in and out under her fingers. He groaned again.
“Is that part of what you imagined?” she asked.
“There was kissing involved as well.” He puffed out his lower lip, which was just . . . delicious.
She bent down and nipped it with her teeth, already reveling in the sensation of her bare body against his—skin to skin, as they were intended, the coarse hairs of his chest thrilling her senses. “Was there?” she managed to ask.
“Lower.” He moved his hands beneath her bottom, squeezing a little as he lifted her. It was her turn to moan. Liquid heat shot through her lower half as her body readied itself for things she could not have. However, tonight she was prepared to take everything she could, everything he would willingly give.
Isabelle lowered her head and kissed down his chest, stroking her tongue over the different textures, the rough hair and the smooth skin of his nipples, down and down. She scooted back so she could tease the skin right above his trousers, flitting just below. She raised her head to catch his eye. “Like this?”
“Isabelle.”
God, the way he said her name like that, as if he was about to lose control, just because of her. Her breath hitched again.
