Page 138 of Revealing Fate

Kal’s fingers glided over her shoulders, tracing along her collar bones and down her arms, sending gooseflesh rippling over every visible surface of skin. Her chest heaved as he worked his way back up. Kal took his time. He left a trail of kisses everywhere: her hairline, nose, jaw, chin, the column of her throat, chest, and palms. When he slipped his fingers under the ivory cloth supporting her breasts, Kitty’s whole body shuddered.

He paused, searching her face, one hand cupping the swell of soft flesh.

When she gave another quick nod, he pulled the fabric away. Kitty gasped as her breasts were freed. Kal dipped his head and fastened his mouth over one pink nipple.

“Oh, dear holy gods,” she groaned, fingers fisting the blanket bunched beneath them.

Dear gods was right. Kal had just found a new religion. And it required fervent worship. He was a lowly acolyte, and she, his goddess.

“Kal,” Kitty gasped.

He lifted his head. Waited. He might die if she asked him to stop.

“Kiss me?”

Kal surged up her body and covered her mouth with his. He was starved for her. His tongue dipped between her lips. She groaned, and he swallowed the sound. His hands moved of their own volition, unable to maintain their patient perusal. Damn him, but he wanted her too badly. His whole body ached with need for this woman.

Kal’s right hand ran down the length of one bare thigh and back up, cupping the plump curve of her ass. And then he couldn’t help himself any longer. He slipped his fingers beneath the delicate barrier of her undergarments. She was liquid beneath him. Molten. Like hot honey. Gods, he wanted to taste her. Wanted her writhing beneath him as he explored every curve and hollow.

Kitty broke their kiss. “Stop,” she gasped, and his hand immediately stilled.

This was it. This was her line. And every single fiber within him wanted to erase it. To smudge it out like chalk dust. Kal swallowed and slowly, deliberately pulled his fingers back from sensitive flesh. He’d been so close to dipping inside.

Kitty’s eyes shuttered. “Gods save me,” she groaned. “I don’t think I’ve ever uttered a more loathsome word.” Her brows lowered, expression hazed by desire. And regret. She wanted this. It was the duty she’d carried since childhood that forbade her from seizing it.

Time for plan B.

“I have an idea,” Kal said, pulling out the item he’d retrieved from the old chest of belongings.

“More silverskin?” Kitty held up her arm, where a near-perfect replica of the cord he held still looped her wrist. The one he’d slipped over her hand in his bedroom.

What she didn’t know was that her cord was a copy. One that Kal had fashioned a year or so ago. The silverskin cord he’d just retrieved was his father’s. “This is an original,” Kal explained. “My methods for crafting silverskin are almost perfect, but my father? He was a true artisan. His craftsmanship was unmatched.”

Kitty took the new length into her hands, running her fingers reverently over the shimmery material. “Why do we need this one?”

Kal was certain solid gold now ringed his pupils by the way Kitty seemed mesmerized by them. “Because this is the only material in Ilistaar capable of restraining me.”

Her mouth parted, lips swollen from their kissing. “Why do you need to be restrained?”

Kal held out one hand. “Because my father’s silverskin is stronger than my self-control,” he said. “We’re not finished here, and this is the only way to guarantee I won’t cross your line.”

She held his attention. “Tell me what to do.”

Kal showed her how to weave and fasten the silverskin cord about his wrists, cinching them tightly together. She watched intently and repeated his example. Her first effort was too loose, and he coached her through another try. On the fourth attempt, Kitty tightened the cord successfully.

Kal turned and presented his hands to her behind his back. She obligingly rewound the silverskin.

“Tighter,” he said.

Kitty pulled on the cord until it bit into his flesh. He grunted his approval, then swiveled to face her, sitting back on his knees. Divine have mercy. Her posture mirrored his, her back to the chaise lounge, hands resting on her thighs, her skin bare from the waist up. A fine tremor worked its way down her frame. Not from cold. Kal would bet all his most cherished possessions that Kitty was as fevered as he. No, this was the tremble of anticipation. This was uncharted territory for her, and while Kal was no virgin, he’d never given a woman this kind of vulnerability before.

“What now?” she asked.

“Come here,” he said, wetting his lips.

She scooted closer until her knees bumped his.

“I can’t touch you,” he said, “but you can touch me.”