I wait another few minutes, frozen with feline poise while I listen to Tanith’s pattering retreat down Stony Stem. The moment the sound tapers off, I drive out of the bath and am through the door on my very next breath, two steps down the spiraling stairwell before I realize I’m naked.
“Shit.”
I spin, leap onto the top landing, and sprint back into my room, snatching my robe off the bed. It’s light and airy, the perfect weight for my ... condition.
Not even bothering to dry myself first, I pull it on, tie it loosely around my waist, then I’m back out that door and barreling down the steps.
Self-restraint has never been my strong suit; neither has my ability to follow orders. To be fair, I’m surprised I lasted this long. Rhordyn should be proud.
It’s dark outside, shaded by the boisterous storm blanketing the sky, striking the ground with fluorescent bolts that illuminate my stairwell.
Honestly, I shouldn’t be in the tower during a storm like this. I might get electrocuted. Anyone in their right mind would agree my actions are entirely justified.
Each step matches the dull, carnal throb between my legs that only seems to intensify with the friction of my frantic motions. I’m moaning by the time I amble onto the bottom landing, robe hanging off my shoulder, the tie around my waist having lost tension from my hurried descent.
I glance down, figuring I should fix myself before I pop out into the main hall, then collide with a barricade of rock and go stumbling—all the breath hissing out of me as my back slams against a wall that’s equally unforgiving.
Sucking large gulps of air, I sweep sodden hair off my face and gasp at the vision of Rhordyn stretched out in the doorway.
His hands are gripping the archway’s peak, and he’s leaning forward, hanging all his weight on the corded brawn of his arms.
Hisbarearms.
He’s topless, his tattoos iridescent in the low light leaking off a nearby wall sconce, contouring the bricks of his body into a beckoning work of art. The bulk of his upper body tapers to a V, punctuated by a fine trail of black hair that disappears beneath the low-cut waistband of form-fitting pants.
Pants that donothingto hide the powerful lines of his legs and the large bulge between them.
I press my knees together, the sutures of my composure stressing.
He’s a casual wall of flexing might, his features savage, and there’s war in that stare scoring across my skin.
He shifts his weight, hands dropping to his sides.
The action alone feels monumental.
“You told me you wouldn’t leave your room,” he rumbles, the cadence of his voice bruised with warning.
He stalks forward, and the air seems to shift, accommodating his advance. He plants his hands either side of my head, two physical barriers as solid as the wall at my back.
Every cell in my body surrenders to his closeness, like the ocean tiding to the moon’s hungry pull.
Inch by inch, my eyes brave the voyage up the regal planes of his body until I’m peeking from beneath a fan of lashes, knees almost buckling from the wrath stamped across his face.
“You told me you understood.” His head cants to the side. “So why are you here, Orlaith?”
I swallow, the sound a splinter in the silence. “Because I ... I need to move—”
“No,” he replies on a bestial growl that attacks my exposed shoulder. The upper swell of my breast. “You need tofuck.”
I pant hot, shuddered breaths, that fire dealing sensual blows between my legs that almost leave me incapable of holding my weight.
Yes.
Yes, that’s exactly what I need.
His gaze flicks down as he makes a low, abrasive sound, coaxing my skin to pebble. My hips push forward, lured by his closeness ...
Hissmell.
