Page 59 of Thief of Hearts

I should have told him no.

“I need to make sure there aren’t any other injuries,” he said. He was teasing me but also giving me a way to agree without seeming pathetic and desperate.

My body overruled my head. “Well, if you need to check, I suppose you should.”

I had just told him that he was a distraction and that I didn’t want to get involved with him, and now I was inviting him to feel me.

He lifted the hand he’d put between us and ran the tips of his fingers along my waist above my wound. Lightly, delicately, but my entire body vibrated with want and need. Everywhere he touched went up in flames.

If I was like this when he was barely touching me, what would happen when he actually did?

“Eramis, you are soft,” he muttered, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“You sound surprised. I can be strong and soft all at the same time.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I like you, illora. You are an intoxicating mixture of contradictions. Strong and soft. Confident but nervous. Sweet yet deadly.”

I was about to tell him that I was not sweet but then he moved his fingers up, skimming over my rib cage. Up and over each bone and I couldn’t breathe.

“Did he hurt you here?” he asked quietly, and I could hear the strain in his voice. At first I thought it was because he was upset about the Lemnian stabbing me but quickly realized that it was because he was holding himself back. His muscles were rigid and I could see the tight cords of his neck, as if it was all he could do to maintain some semblance of control.

Could I really drive him to madness like that? The thought empowered and excited me.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “He didn’t hurt me there.”

He continued his ascent. “Here?”

“Not there,” I whispered.

His hand was torturously close to my breast and I held my breath, desperately waiting. But he didn’t follow through and moved away, returning to stroking my side. I had to fight off the urge to grab his hand and put it exactly where I wanted it.

Because none of this should be happening.

It hadn’t gone too far. We hadn’t done anything we couldn’t come back from. We could joke about this tomorrow.

Pretend that nothing had passed between us.

“When you’re excited, when you want me, you get the most beautiful flush to your skin. I’ve been dying to see how far it goes,” he said.

Here I’d been hoping he hadn’t noticed, but now I was very glad that he had. “It goes everywhere.”

He turned his hand so that he could brush his knuckles along my stomach and I was literally quivering from his touch.

All the blood in my body pooled low in one spot and I felt like I was going to combust.

“There it is,” he murmured. “That flush. So beautiful.”

In the past I’d always taken what I wanted. But this . . . this was a new experience, and I liked it. Waiting, receiving, just enjoying everything that he was doing. Being desperate for him but having to wait. It somehow made it all more exciting.

His fingers brushed along the top of my undergarment and I found myself arching toward him, my mind going hazy. He moved his mouth closer so that his words were hot against my sensitive ear.

“If I pushed this aside, what would I find?”

He knew exactly what he would find, exactly the effect he had on me, but I wasn’t able to speak. His voice was as hot and sensual as his hand.

I made an undignified, desperate noise but I didn’t care.

“You could have died today,” he said as he returned his fingers to my waist, as if that were a safe spot.