Paladin's Grace by T. Kingfisher

Author:T. Kingfisher [Kingfisher, T.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Red Wombat Studio
Published: 2020-02-10T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

Her lips were like ice against his, and for a moment all he could think of was that she was cold, of course she was cold, it was a cool day and they’d been standing around in cold mud and he had not realized. He wanted to wrap his body around hers and breathe warmth into her.

He pulled one of his gloves off and lifted his hand to her cheek. It was cold under his palm, but the heat that sprang up between them threatened to burn him where he stood.

He’d pictured this since yesterday. He would go slowly, carefully, as delicate as a moth’s wings. Sudden passion would only scare her.

It would sure as hell scare him.

Gently. Carefully. Let her pull away, if this isn’t what she wants.

Grace’s mouth opened under his and all his good intentions went straight to hell.

She tasted of salt and sage and her mouth was as hot as her lips were cold. He pulled her tight against him and her hands slid up his back, pressing her body even closer. The space between them seemed intolerably large, even if it was only a few layers of clothing and—well, admittedly a chain hauberk, that wasn’t nothing, even if he was vaguely astonished that it didn’t turn to ash and fall away the longer they kissed.

He tangled his bare hand in her hair, feeling the strands curling around his fingers. His lips left hers and he trailed kisses over her jaw, down her throat, feeling the cold skin warm under his touch. She made a small, pleased sound in the back of her throat, almost a whimper, and he thought he might lose control right then and there.

Control.

What little he had was already slipping, burned away by the heat between them, by the sounds she made as he set his lips against her pulse and felt it beating fast, by the sensation of her body rubbing against his.

Dangerous, whispered his mind. This is dangerous.

The tide rising in his blood was red, not black, but it was too much alike, too close. He could lose himself too easily in the heat of her body. This was a tide that could wash away his past and his duty and everything else that held him back and kept him sane. If kissing her was doing this much to him, how much farther would it go?

He didn’t know. He wanted very much to find out, to let passion burn away the hollow, lonely places for a moment, to be with her and for a few minutes to not be broken.

She was melting against him, her hand curling against the back of his neck to draw him closer. More, he thought, mental voice hazy with lust. More. He could give her more. He could give her everything, could stoke the fire between them until it consumed them both.

She gasped, and even though it was from pleasure—he was nearly certain it was pleasure—the sound, and the thought for an instant that he might be hurting her, shocked him free of the tide.

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