Page 30 of Blood & Roses

“Just thinking through our plans,” I lied, deciding it was safer to pretend to be contemplating murder while lying atop him than the future. Than what would happen between us.

He laughed, pulling me up for a kiss. “It’s very cold-blooded to plot murder while straddling a male,” he teased. “Very fearsome.”

“Assassin,” I reminded him with a shrug and a kiss.

He chuckled, reaching up to touch the garnet necklace, a finger stroking reverently over the ruby rose I always wore. It made my stomach lurch strangely as he murmured, “Beautiful,” before pulling me down to him again.

He captured my mouth, his hands sliding down my back as if he wished to memorize every curve and line of me.

I let him, reveling in the touch of calloused hands against bare skin, imagining that perhaps I could be wanted like this all the time some day, not just in a moment of passion and attraction on a dangerous mission.

The thoughts eddied from my mind as Rowan nudged into me, insistent and gloriously hard between my legs. I moaned, sinking atop him slowly as I braced my hands on his broad chest.

“A dream,” he groaned, his hands skimming my hips and gripping my thighs. “You feel like a dream.”

I lifted slightly, lowering myself again as I inexpertly tried to find a rhythm. Rowan didn’t laugh at my fumbling attempt, guiding my hips and helping me work myself atop him. He seemed to marvel at me—at us and where we were joined—and his expression of wonder and hunger did as much to spur me onward as his gentle, guiding hands and murmurs of encouragement.

“I don’t know if I’m doing this right,” I confessed, a little breathless as I ground against him.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, his fingers digging into my hips as he groaned again. “Because it feels perfect to me.”

I kissed him, craving warmth and closeness all of a sudden, rather than frenzied frantic strokes and grinding hips. He obliged, pulling me close and taking control of the movement, his hips thrusting into me as he kissed me deeply, my body holding to him as he hit a spot inside me that had me seeing stars.

We came together, panting and sweaty despite the chill in the room, but Rowan didn’t release me or put me aside. He held me close, breathing into my hair as I lay sprawled atop him, boneless and content to stay forever.

“Your turn,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“Why me?” he clarified, chuckling a little at my nonsensical response. “You asked me, back in the tub, why I wanted you. Same question, Isolde.”

I wasn’t sure what to say exactly. I felt the same incomprehensible connection he’d tried to explain, and I didn’t have words for it that were any clearer than his.

“You’re very pretty,” I said, hoping he’d laugh and let it go.

He did laugh, nipping my ear in teasing punishment. “I’m serious.”

Damn. Not letting it go.

“You don’t have to answer right now,” he offered, kissing my forehead and settling me more comfortably in his arms. “But I’m going to ask you again, Isolde. And I want a real answer.”

“I told you I don’t really do relationships,” I hedged, recalling the conversation at the boarding house in Fairwinds. “Romance.”

“I remember,” he replied, sounding unfazed. “And yet, here we are. So what is this to you, Isolde?”

I thought about telling him it was just a bit of fun. Release. Nothing more.

But as I met his eyes in the dark, their emerald depths both a challenge and a promise of something more, I knew it to be the lie it was.

So instead I said nothing and let the thumping of his heart lull me to sleep.

Chapter 15

Iwoke in Rowan’s arms as dawn light streamed into the little room.

I groaned quietly, wondering if Owl had been tapping on the glass to wake us up again, but Rowan still slept. I supposed the bird must have taken his threats to heart and kept his distance.

“Good morning,” came a rumbling voice from above my head. Rowan shifted, pressing his lips to my hair as he pulled me more firmly against him. “A beautiful day formurder.”