She tightened her grip in his hair. “Do you want me, Henrik?”
“More than I want my next breath.”
“Well, I want you back,” she said, a plea in her tone, strength in her hands.
She couldn’t let him go. Not while pressure mounted between her temples and premonition threatened. ’Twas strange, her need for him. Naught about it made sense. Then again, naught about her gift ever did. She never received the whole story, just bits and pieces. Broken shards that didn’t amount to much. Still, she refused to ignore the coil and strike of second sight. Somehow . . . some way . . . Cosmina knew being with him was right. Was good. Would make a difference down the line and change the course of her life. So nay, no going back. Or shying away. In this moment, he belonged to her. And she needed to claim him, even if it meant she must let him go in the end.
“Henrik, I need to know you. I cannot explain it. ’Tisn’t based in rough urges or right and wrong,” she said, holding his gaze. “’Tis a necessary thing . . . pure instinct. I need this from you. Please . . . do not leave me wanting.”
He growled, the rough purr so low she barely heard it. A denial? Unabashed acceptance? It didn’t matter. Her course was set, and fate turned the dial, pushing her into his arms. So she kissed him again, sinking into his mouth, holding on to his taste, hope rising hard as she waited to see what he would do . . .
Push her away. Or do as she asked and lay her down.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
He shouldn’t be touching her. Shouldn’t be enjoying the feel of her so much either. Giving into need. Doing what he wanted. Making love to Cosmina. All bad ideas. Worse than terrible, actually. Henrik knew it. Every instinct he owned told him it wouldn’t end well. He’d do what he always did and leave. She’d end up with a handful of memories and a heart full of hurt. Not good for either of them. But even as he told himself to do the right thing, ease up and back away, he couldn’t force his hands from her, never mind deny her kiss. Not with her small hands buried in his hair and her lush body up against his.
Henrik groaned. God forgive him but . . .
She tasted so damned good.
Better than decadent. A delicious temptress who twisted intention, making him yearn in ways he never had before. Now he longed for her. For the softness of her skin. For the taste of her tongue and heat of her mouth. For the acceptance she gave. No judgment. No second-guessing. Not an ounce of hesitation, just full-on welcome wrapped up in all-consuming need.
Please do not leave me wanting.
Captivating words. Desperate desire. Such a powerful plea. All of it hers.
She whispered his name like a benediction. The need in her tone throbbed between his temples. Tore into his heart. Left him grasping at straws, searching for self-control, a way to hold the line as she kissed him again. Her tongue flicked along his teeth, burning a path into his mouth. Passion flamed into a wall of heat, licking through his veins, making his balls fist up tight and his heart pound the inside of his chest. Thump-thump-throb. Boom-boom-slam. The sound echoed, roaring into a lust-filled chant, tempting him and . . . oh God. He wanted to do it—continue, lose all restraint, and be the first to show her pleasure. Be the only man to lay her down and teach her true abandon.
It would be so easy to do. To let go, lose control, and give Cosmina her way.
She wanted him. And honestly, he yearned to please her. Was driven to provide all she asked, so . . . no harm, no foul. The situation held all he insisted upon—willingness, a bed, and explosive desire. All incredible components. A great combination heading into a brief interlude. One that benefited both parties. Except for one thing . . .
It wasn’t that simple.
Particularly since brief interlude would never apply to Cosmina. ’Twould be more of a love affair, a complicated one in which he lost his mind and got burned in the process. Logic pointed out the flaws in the plan. Instinct backed up the theory. One night—afternoon, evening, whatever; he didn’t know what time it was—would never be enough. Not with her. It was a simple fact wrapped up in unshakable certainty that led to an inescapable conclusion. All based on how he felt about her—hot, needy, proud, invested, so goddamn possessive he understood the implications.
Laying her down and loving her amounted to self-annihilation.
He wouldn’t survive the experience unscathed. Not with his heart intact. She wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded. She was infinitely more precious. Special in ways he found difficult to describe, but knew to be true. Which meant his love ’em hard, leave ’em fast maxim wouldn’t work with her. For the first time in his life, Henrik wanted to stay. To stick around long enough to make a play for another’s heart. To see if, by some miracle, she came to value him in return. Xavian had done it, risked all, been brave, and held on to Afina. It defied logic—and the code of their kind—but somehow their relationship, the love the pair shared, worked. His sister was happy, and his best friend full of the kind of contentment most men never found.
Odd. Baffling. So very tempting. Almost irrepressible, but for one thing.
Cosmina deserved so much better than him.
Heart heavy with regret, Henrik retreated a little, lifting his mouth from hers. He needed to end it now. Set her aside and walk away this instant. Before he forgot restraint and—
“Nay,” she said, her lips brushing over his. Her hands flexed in his hair. She leaned in, bridging the distance, and bit down on his bottom lip. A gentle nip. A sweet tug, and bliss swirled, taking him on a passion-fueled ride. “Stay. Kiss me again.”
Another whispered plea. More soul-stirring need. Enough to drag him closer to edge. “Cosmina.”
“Now, Henrik.”
Her tone brooked no argument. Her command of the kiss fueled his fire, forcing him to respond even as he tried to resist her. But Christ, it was hard. He wanted what she offered. Needed to touch, taste, and discover. And as she took control, Henrik lost his will—his mind too—and opened wider, encouraging her to explore and take and tease.
Which—goddamn it—scared the hell out of him.
For good reason. His need for her was unsettling, beyond anything he’d ever experienced, which left him at her mercy. A problem, particularly since she didn’t appear to have any—kissing him as though starving, sending her tongue deep, eating at his mouth the way he yearned to feast upon her body. And as she stoked his flames higher, ramping him into dangerous territory, Henrik felt himself crack and give ground.
Something he never did.
Always dominant in bed, he dictated the play. ’Twas a hard and fast rule. One he lived by. Too bad it wasn’t working for him right now. Her touch. The soft sounds she made. The feel of her pressed against him. Temptation personified. Beautiful wanton. Gorgeous hellion. She sent him soaring. Each caress compounded the effect, multiplying until the word no disappeared from his vocabulary. Not a good sign. The ground rules must be laid in advance. He needed her to understand and accept before they went any further. Believe him when he told her they had no future together. She was a member of the Blessed, a valuable asset to the Goddess of All Things. He was an assassin assigned to protect her, one with a tainted past and too much blood on his hands.
It wouldn’t end well. Was doomed to fail. He knew it, even if she didn’t.
Reaching for some small measure of restraint, he turned his head and broke the kiss. She protested and, with a tug, tried to bring him back. He almost gave in. Almost said to hell with honor, took control, and tangled his tongue with hers. Almost, but not quite. Despite rampant need, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go on without telling her the truth.
Warning her was the right thing to do.
“Cosmina . . . iubita, slow down. Ease up a moment. We need to . . .” Chest pumping, he fought to draw a full breath. A useless endeavor. Cosmina was too quick. Denied his kiss, she dipped her head and set her mouth to the side of his throat. The sharp edge of her teeth scraped his skin. His muscles flexed, tightening in alarm as she shifted to her kne
es. One moment, she sat beside him on the mattress. The next, she sat astride him, the insides of her thighs pressed to the outside of his as she settled her exquisite bottom in his lap. Heat bled through her thin braes, scorching him through his leather trews, making him twitch. “Christ, don’t—”
“What, Henrik?”
Playing the seductress, she undulated against him, riding the hard ridge of his erection. He cursed and rolled his hips, meeting her downward thrust, encouraging her ride as he flicked at the hem of her shirt. Soft skin met his palms and . . . ah hell. Oh Jesus. He was in trouble. He couldn’t stop touching her, never mind breathe when she rode him that way. His hands traveled of their own volition, refusing to listen to him, caressing her bare back, loving the feel of her.
She hummed against the side of his neck. “Make you desire me? Take what I want instead of waiting for it to happen?” With a quick shift, she licked over his pulse point, lashing him with bliss, then raised her head. Bright-green eyes met his. “I’m tired of waiting. You’re here. I want you. Give me what I need.”
He longed to . . . over and over, again and again. “Sweet love, ’tisn’t that simple.”
“Aye, it is . . . just that simple. You. Me. Desire. Simplest thing in the world.”
“Cosmina,” he said, his heart aching so hard his whole chest hurt. “I cannot stay.”
“How long do we have together?”
“Two, mayhap three, days.”
“Well then . . .” Gaze steady, she brushed her mouth against his. So gentle. So sweet. Way too accepting. “We’d best make the most of it, don’t you think?”
Think? Christ, ’twas too much to hope for. His brain—along with every ounce of good sense—was gone.
“Make love to me, Henrik. Show me true pleasure,” she whispered. “No regrets.”
And just like that, he was done. Finished. Beyond the limits of smart, plunging headlong off desire’s cliff into the stupidest form of wrong.
Triumph tasted sweet, and Henrik even better.
Gods, he was something. So hard-bodied. So strong. The sweep of his hands over her bare back so gentle it took her breath away. Now all she wanted was more. More of his taste. More of his heat. More of his skin against hers. A startling thought. She’d never imagined thinking it, never mind having the opportunity to explore the tight tug of arousal. But the slow burn of desire—’twas incredible, alluring, seductive . . .
So damned good, she yearned to settle in, stay a while, and prolong the pleasure.
Another odd thought. One that wrestled with the first. Aye, she wanted to linger, relish each touch, every tantalizing sound he made and yet, impatience shoved at her too, urging her to rush headlong into bliss and experience all the pleasure Henrik promised. Polar opposites. Two conflicting approaches. Both of equal merit. Pile on her inexperience and—aye, the entire affair held the possibility to send her tumbling into dangerous territory.
A place labeled true, unadulterated love.
The realization should’ve set Cosmina back a step. Or at least caused her to pause, take stock, mayhap even revise her game plan. A good girl, after all, didn’t beg a man to make love to her. Or plop herself in his lap, bury her hands in his hair, and press her advantage. A respectable woman demurred, waited, expected a ceremony and commitment before giving herself to a man. She huffed. Commitment. ’Twas a lovely concept. An interesting convention and . . .
One best left out of the equation.
Building a fantasy life around Henrik wouldn’t end well. He didn’t want anything permanent or long-term. And honestly, she wasn’t sure she did either. Men were fickle creatures, ones who enjoyed variety and adventure. She’d learned that truth the hard way, five years ago when she’d become entangled with the blacksmith’s son. Love did strange things to people—made women stupid, circumstances turn, and heartbreak inevitable. Something about Henrik urged her to risk it. Brave all, tuck in, pull him close, and keep him for as long as fate allowed.
Such a bad idea.
No way should she be dreaming of a future with him. She should be planning the best way to let him go after the loving. Before meeting him, she never would’ve believed herself capable of loving and then leaving a man. Or rather, allowing him to leave in the aftermath of physical conquest. With Henrik, though, clarity crystallized, dragging awareness to the surface. She couldn’t push him away. Or guard her heart. The strong pull of premonition refused to let her. Denying her gift wouldn’t work. Here, now, this moment was about listening—for opening her Seer’s eye and allowing intuition to flow. Which meant . . . no walking away.
Regardless of the fated heartbreak and upheaval in the aftermath, she intended to take everything he gave her. Give as much as she could in return as well. Burn herself into his brain so he never, ever, forgot her. Days, weeks . . . years. Time wouldn’t touch what they shared here. No matter the distance, it would endure, rest safe in his heart, mind, and soul in the same way it would hers. Even after Henrik left her and never looked back.
Henrik deepened the kiss, taking charge of her. She let him, loving his taste, reveling in his touch as his warm hands ghosted up her spine. He groaned against her mouth. Bliss swirled in a heated curl. Satisfaction roared in its wake. He wanted her—badly. She could feel it in his touch, in the urgent flex and shift of his body against hers, in the tangle of their tongues, in his need for more. More. Oh gods, she loved that word. Couldn’t get enough of Henrik’s more. Wanted to give him all and offered it as he deepened the kiss, making her moan. He growled in return, gripping her hips, teaching her rhythm as she moved in his lap. Denying her nothing, he provided what she wanted, then offered her more. Cosmina took it all. Every soft caress. Each heated stroke, passion urging her to follow his lead. She undulated against him, rolling her hips, riding the hard length pressed between her thighs.
Henrik’s breath hitched. “Christ, Cosmina, aye . . . just like that. Take control. Find your rhythm and ride. Ride me, iubita.”
Sensation spiraled deep. Pleasure broke through, cresting through her on a wave of ecstasy. She gasped his name. Nipping the underside of her chin, he cupped her bottom with one hand, then sent the other exploring. He fisted the back of her shirt. With a slow draw, he raised the linen and tugged it over her head. Cool air washed over her skin. Awareness bloomed and Cosmina hesitated, feeling exposed, surprised when shyness rose and uncertainty threatened. The urge to cross her arms and cover her breasts nudged her.
Such a silly reaction. Particularly since she desired him. Wanted to be unclothed and skin to skin with him, which, aye, necessitated him stripping her bare, but—blast and damn. ’Twas difficult not to flinch. Harder still to quash her shimmer of anxiety. Nervous tension lashed her, stilling her in his lap. Breathing hard, her chest rose and fell, accentuating the fact she was naked from the waist up. Gaze fixed to his face, she waited for his reaction, for a flicker of disappointment, for him to push her away. Cosmina bit down on her bottom lip. Oh please, don’t let that happen. She wanted him so much and needed him to want her with the same intensity, but . . .
The inevitable questions circled, destroying her confidence.
Did he find her beautiful? Was her lack of a busty bosom unpleasing? A worry based in complete witlessness. She couldn’t, after all, change the way she was made. Strong and slight. She’d always been that way. Henrik would either find her beautiful . . . or not. But even as she settled into the reality, her heart throbbed and uncertainty rose. She longed for his praise. For admiration to ignite in his eyes. For him to look at her with heat and awe and . . . aye, mayhap with awe and the merest hint of love.
A lump formed in her throat. She squirmed in his lap, loving the feel of his hands on her, even as she dreaded his reaction. Goddess strike her dead and be done with it. She’d fallen straight into ridiculousness. It shouldn’t matter whether he liked the look of her. Having him in her arms ought to be enough. And yet, it wasn’t. She wanted more. So instead of covering up, she held the line and leveled h
er chin.
Big hands slid from her waist up her sides. As her breath hitched, Henrik held her gaze. Grip firm yet gentle, he cupped her rib cage, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. His fingers flexed. Her breath caught as he broke eye contact. His gaze traveled over her throat, across her collarbone, down . . .
Down.
Down until . . .
She shivered as he skimmed over her breasts.
“Sweet love,” he said, tone low, the look in his eyes so hot her nipples reacted, furling tight. He groaned and, breathing hard, dragged his gaze up to meet hers once more. “God, Cosmina. You’re beautiful. So goddamn perfect. I knew you would be. I imagined you like this so many times, but—Christ. Nothing compares to the reality.”
The praise sank deep, infecting her heart, heating her soul, making relief rise. “Thank you. I was worried you would . . .”
As she trailed off, he raised a brow. “What? Find you lacking?”
She nodded, acknowledging the insecurity. “Most men like women with more up top.”
“What idiot told you that?”
Gripping the edge of his leather tunic, Cosmina shrugged.
“Don’t believe a word of it,” he said. “You’re incredible. So pretty and . . .”
With a slow shift, he switched focus. His hands left her rib cage. Heat engulfed her as he cupped her in both palms. Calloused fingertips rasped over her nipples. “Pink—Jesus, high, tight, pretty pink nipples.”
Her breath caught on the compliment. Bliss roared at his touch, scorching her, and she arched her spine in supplication. The move begged him for more. He delivered, watching her as he caressed her with gentle strokes, teasing her with each tug and flick. His mouth drifted across her collarbone. Ecstasy sizzled across her skin, shooting straight to her core. As she pulsed deep inside, Cosmina rolled her hips. He met her halfway, then shifted from the edge of the mattress. Hard muscles flexed around her as he picked her up. A quick pivot, and her back touched the sheet. Henrik followed her down, settling a thigh between her legs as he dipped his head. His mouth settled at her breast. Cosmina bucked, arching up, and . . .
Knight Avenged (Circle of Seven #2) Page 25