“Good sense be damned,” Roiven hisses.
He grabs me by the shoulders, spins me around, and crushes me between the smooth rock side and the hardness of his body. Taking my head in both his hands, he tilts my face up to his and claims my mouth.
The witch’s mouth is hard against mine, desperate. It’s not a gentle kiss. I buckle against him as pleasure chases out the rest of my fear, but my heart keeps pounding just as fast. It’s fire running through my veins. It’s lightning, and stormwinds, and the sea itself. It doesn’t matter that he’s a witch and I’m a knight; that he’s the enemy I was raised to destroy. It’s Roiven. IwantRoiven.
Nothing else matters.
His tongue pushes into my mouth. I lift my hands up to run them across his firm chest. Beneath the warm surface of his skin Ican feel the crystal singing to me, waiting to respond to my command. But that’s not what I want, not right now.
One of his hands slides around my neck to cradle my head. The other slips down, around my waist, to crush us tight together. His stiff length presses against my stomach. I slide my living hand down and palm the tip. His body jerks against mine as I touch him. Roiven moans into my mouth, then catches my bottom lip between both his teeth.
“Cai,” he growls.
It’s hard not to smirk at how sensitive he is to my touch. I wrap my hand around him and stroke slowly all the way down his length. He feels furiously hard and searingly hot. His hips shudder, like he’s fighting the urge to thrust into my grip.
Roiven steps back, breaking his mouth away from me. I let go instantly and try not to let the disappointment ruin me.
Maybe he’s right. We aren’t meant for this. We’re opposites, and maybe still enemies, and definitely nothing more.
But then Roiven’s hands grab my hips, fingers digging into the skin, and my breath hitches. Effortlessly, he tosses me up into the air and seats me on the side of the pool, the smooth, sloped entrance he’d taken in. The wind bites at my skin, stiffening my nipples as Roiven grabs my knees and spreads my legs wide.
“You look more perfect than I imagined,” he says.
It's an odd reaction to me almost drowning and making a fool of myself. But I'm not about to stop him. My toes curl as Roiven's tongue presses like a hot brand to my center, then drags tantalizingly slowly up. Just that one lick feels so good I could die happy. Every muscle in my body strains as I press against his mouth. Leaning back on my elbows, I watch the Witch-King through heavily lidded eyes. This doesn't feel real. And yet… pleasure floods my body as he pauses to rub the flat of his tongue over the nub above my entrance.
Roiven draws his mouth away and looks up at me. His hands dig into my thighs, the muscle aching beneath his touch.
“Swimming lessons.”
“What?” The wind is cold against my wet skin.
“When all of this is over. You need them.”
“You bring that upnow?”
“I'm not continuing until you agree.”
I huff. Lessons aren't abadidea, if there's a freshwater pool big enough somewhere, but I don't like the condescending tone in his voice.
“Nevermind, then,” I snap. I start to press my legs closed. Roiven wraps one hand around my ankle.
“Pretending won't work, Caiteven,” he growls. “I can feel how much you want this. Almost as much as I do.”
That last admission—that I'm not the only fool—makes me gulp and soften my legs, inching my thighs apart again.
“I don’t like you issuing commands.”
“It’s not a command. It’s a bargain.” His hand slides up from my ankle, circling my calf and stopping inside my thigh, just above my knee. I want him to keep going. “Please?” Roiven adds, his voice soft. His hand inches slowly higher. My body throbs in response.
“Fine. Swimming lessons.” I don’t see why he cares if I drown.
“Was that so hard?”
The sky is darker with each moment, and I can barely see Roiven now. His head sinks between my thighs again, a press of his lips, then his tongue. My whole body hones in on his touch.
His hot breath pants against the crux of my thigh. His fingers replace his tongue, rubbing me in tight circles until I press up against him. My back arches and my head falls back. Desperate need pounds through me until I can't form a coherent thought. Is it my lust, or Roiven's, or both, so overwhelming I buck against him like a netted fish? I lock my ankles behind his head and moan.
My hand reaches for him and fists into his long hair, squeezing and tugging at his roots as he buries his face against me. Roivengroans into me and I feel a flare of desire overwhelm everything else in my mind.
