Page 132 of Iron Beneath the Snow

He followed the pressure.

His mouth returned to her throat, and when her fingers tightened again, his hand at her waist drew her harder against him.

Her cloak loosened with the movement.

One edge slipped from her shoulder, then the other, and a moment later it fell behind her into the snow.

Neither of them reached for it.

His hands moved lower.

He caught her beneath the thighs and lifted her with controlled strength, pressing her back against the rock until her legs closed around him instinctively.

The cold stone sharpened the contrast of his body against hers.

Her breath caught again.

His grip tightened.

Something changed in his expression.

Not loss of control.

Not entirely.

The distance in him had disappeared.

He looked at her with a focus that no longer belonged to strategy.

Hunger, she thought.

The recognition should have unsettled her.

Instead, she drew him closer.

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

For one suspended moment, he stopped.

Then he kissed her.

There was nothing tentative in it.

His mouth found hers with all the restraint they had spent weeks building and all the force required to finally break through it. Heat moved through her so sharply that her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him there as she met him without yielding ground.

Not yielding.

Matching.

The kiss deepened.

His hand shifted beneath her, holding her securely against the stone while the other moved along her side, beneath the edge of her clothing, finding skin warmed by everything except the night around them.

Eira pulled him closer again.

The movement left no ambiguity.

His mouth broke from hers only long enough for breath.