Page 57 of The Hood and his Thief

The words were spoken nearly against Rhosyn’s lips, and she closed the rest of the distance between them so quickly, he barely finished his thought. Close as they had been, Rhosyn dove into the kiss with such force that it knocked him back a step. He took it in stride, arms wrapping around her back and crushing her nearer still.

Her hands braced on his shoulders, fingertips digging into his shirt, slightly damp with the sweat of his earlier exertion. Rhosyn wanted to taste it. She groaned, and it gave Ansel room to deepen the kiss, tilting her head and delving into her mouth with a singular focus.

It was far from gentle and sweet, but neither was it the rapid, selfish kiss of a man seeking a vessel for his own pleasure. No…this was the kiss of a man who wanted to devour her piece by piece. To learn exactly what took her apart, from the way she whimpered when his tongue slid against her own to the way her legs began to shake when he nipped at her bottom lip.

Ansel’s hands traveled up and into her hair, pulling free what remained of the haphazard braid she had slept in. His blunt nails raked against her scalp with none of the shyness of his previous morning explorations, and she whined unconsciously.

Fisting the roots of her hair, Ansel pulled her head back, gently but insistently. Her eyes fluttered open to stare sightlessly at the striped canvas of the ceiling as Ansel’s lips traveled down the column of her throat. His mouth was so hot against her skin, she imagined it would burn marks into her pale skin. She almost hoped it would.

Not one to let Ansel have all the fun, Rhosyn pushed her pelvis forward, grinding into the growing hardness against her hip. The choked grunt that rewarded her actions pulled a mischievous smile from her. She dragged her hands down his chest, nails catching on Ansel’s shirt as her fingers traced a path to his belt. Before she had struggled with it for more than a few moments, one of Ansel’s hands flew to her wrist to stop her.

“No.” His tone was firm.

Rhosyn began to pull away in stinging confusion, but his hand in her hair pinned her firmly where she was.

“No,” he repeated, softer this time. “You just said you have spent your life doing things for other people. I don’t want this to be about that. I just want you to feel.”

Rhosyn stilled, one of her fingers still stroking the notched leather of his belt. She itched to push him back, rip off his belt and drop to her knees, just to show him she could give as good as she got. And he would let her. If that was what she truly wanted, Ansel would let her control this encounter and take her pleasure from him.

Instead, she paused, a shiver running up her spine at what he proposed. Just feeling. She was no stranger to sex, but even in her brief encounters, she had found herself drawn into being what her partners desired—normally the untamed spitfire that treated everything, even pleasure, like a competition.

But with Ansel…the was as terrifying as it was delicious. And Rhosyn wasn’t one to scare easily. Slowly she nodded.

She was rewarded by the movement of Ansel’s lips curving into a smile against the hollow of her throat. “Good girl.”

A shudder trailed down Rhosyn’s body in the wake of Ansel’s hands, trailing over her flanks towards her hips. She let her own hands fall to her sides, clenching into fists as she endeavored to do as Ansel asked, and just feel what he was doing to her.

So slowly that Rhosyn thought she might scream, Ansel inched her shirt up, sliding his warm, rough palms against the planes of her stomach. She sucked in a sharp breath, wanting to pull away from the all-consuming heat that ran through her, while also craving more.

Ansel continued to lift her shirt until he pulled it off over her head and let his fingers trail back down from her shoulders to her clavicles.

“You even have freckles here,” he murmured as he traced over the swell of the top of her breast.

“Comes with the territory.” Rhosyn intended to joke, but the breathless rasp of her voice detracted from the effect. Any further teasing gave way to a gasp as Ansel’s lips replaced his fingers on her sternum.

He dragged his mouth sideways, tongue darting out to taste her skin until his mouth latched around the peak of her breast. Her mind fixated on the exquisite pleasure so adamantly that she barely even noticed his hands drifting lower to the button of her pants.

He switched his attention to her other breast, and she couldn’t help herself. She plunged her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer at the same time she arched towards him, not sure what she was chasing except more.

He pulled back, looking up at her with already glassy eyes, lips red and wet in a way that almost undid Rhosyn right there.

“You really can’t stay still unless I tie you to a bed, can you?” Ansel asked. His tone was teasing, but with the hoarseness in his voice, Rhosyn couldn’t help but picture what it would be like to be tied in his bed again, this time in a completely different context.

Already flushed, a fresh wave of redness rushed down from Rhosyn’s face to her chest. Ansel’s gaze flickered over her, taking in her visceral reaction to his words. His eyes darkened as he looked up at her through his lashes, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her sternum.

“Maybe some other time,” he murmured.

Rhosyn refused to wonder if they would have a chance for some other time. Not when her mind was occupied being melted by the heated expression on his face.

“For now, reach up and grab the bar.”

Momentarily confused, Rhosyn glanced up to find the trapeze Ansel had descended on so gracefully dangling over her head.

“I’m not much of an acrobat,” she huffed.

“I know, but it’ll give you something to do with your hands,” Ansel murmured into her skin. “Be good for me and grab the bar.”

When he put it like that, Rhosyn was of no mind to disobey. Her arms stretched above her, fingers wrapping around the solid wood of the handle, the grain against her palm grounding her. She didn’t have to go on her tiptoes to reach, but only just, the position leaving her fully stretched out and vulnerable.