Page 140 of A Thief Among Fae

I lean into his touch, then catch myself and pull away. “A little.” I glance down at myself, flustered even though I’ve been shirtless with a man before. Yet it’s different with him. It’s always different with him.

He grimaces at the fire as though wishing he could make it burn hotter. Then he shifts, reaching for the cords of his gambeson.

I stop him. It’s foolish, and I know we’re only undressing so we don’t freeze to death, but underneath the unyielding cold, desire burns me.

My hands aren’t so numb now, and as I unlace the cords, Desmond sits very still, as if one sudden move might startle me. I peel the gambeson off his body so only his drenched tunic covers his torso. Then I unsheath one of the knives he gifted me.

He arches a brow. I run the blade down the center seam, slicing his tunic open. He sucks in a breath as a shiver rolls through the tight muscles of his stomach, and when he looks up at me, a small smile dimples his cheek. “I’ve always loved a woman who knows how to use a blade.”

At first I laugh, and then my face flushes as I think the sentence over. He didn’t mean it that way. I can’t afford any blood rushing to my cheeks when I’m still chilled to the bone. It’s these damn boots. My toes are blocks of ice inside them.

As if reading my mind, the humor snaps off Desmond’s face. He pulls each of my shoes off and then my stockings. I draw in a breath to speak, expecting that he’s done, but then he grabs my feet and rubs them, warming my soles.

Gods, he’s good at it. If I weren’t so damn cold still, I’d be lost in the sensation of it. Rough, then slow and soft along the sensitive curve of my arches. I close my eyes, letting the fire warm my toes as he massages them.

Still cold. Still so cold. Even with the water gone and the air in the chamber growing warmer, my pants are a sheet of ice around my legs.

Desmond gently releases my feet. Then I gasp as his touch sears against my hips, his thumb hooking into my waistband.

His jaw tightens as I watch him. “Is this alright?” he asks me.

I lift my hips in answer, helping him pull my pants down until nothing covers me but silken underwear.

Desmond swallows. The firelight catches in his hazel eyes as his gaze drifts lower, lingering for one reckless second too long on my thighs. Then he tears his attention away so abruptly it’s almost violent, as though looking at me is dangerous.

I bite my lip and pull the cloak tighter over my shoulders. It’s foolish, but I liked the way he looked at me, as if my body could unravel his careful restraint. I want him to stare at me that way again.

The clack of a belt buckle makes me stiffen. Desmond grunts low as he pulls his shoes and stockings off, then his pants and sword holster. Out of the corner of my gaze, I see him discard the cut remains of his tunic. I swallow, my pulse quickening as the realization sinks in.

We’re sitting beside each other—almost naked—and neither of us is saying a damn thing.

I never dared to fantasize about this. Especially not cutting his clothes off him. He was supposed to be in love with Auri. I’m supposed to avoid any attachment and leave for Nettlerock after the tomb raid. Look how that turned out when my heartstrings pull at the thought of leaving the guild behind.

Of leaving Desmond behind.

“You should drink something warm,” he says in a gravelly tone that makes my toes curl. He stands, the sinuous muscles of his back rippling as he stretches his arms behind his head. I unabashedly stare as he walks across the chamber to fetch his flask. The current must’ve torn it free from his belt.

As he walks back toward me, I quickly avert my gaze. “I could’ve untethered it, you know.”

He frowns as he sits beside me. “You’ve taken care of others your whole life. Let someone take care of you for once.”

For a moment, I stare at him, too speechless to move. Years of tomb raiding in secret flash through my mind—every coin I snuck into my parents’ coin purses while they were bemoaning me. My abrasive attitude, my dwindling marriage prospects as I snubbed every potential suitor they came up with, my Gift’s uselessness. If I wasn’t worrying about us starving, I was worrying about Evie’s future. Her dowry. Her dreams.

I never forgot my own dreams, but they always came last. Some days, it was hard to hope that I’d ever leave Nettlerock. Joining the adventurers’ guild felt as impossible as reaching the stars.

Desmond cocks a brow, daring me to respond.

“I suppose you have a point.” Clearing my throat, I take the flask from him. Our fingers brush, and sparks tingle along my skin.

The metal is already hot. I drink the minty tea inside until warmth spreads to every inch of me. I pass it to him. He takes a long drink.

Then I move so close to Desmond that our shoulders touch, and I drape the cloak around us both. His teeth worry his bottom lip as though he’s debating saying something to me. He remains silent.

Finally, between the fire, the tea, and his body heat, I don’t feel so cold.

Then Desmond grabs my waist and hoists me up, setting me down between his legs. I gasp as he tucks me against him, my back to his chest. He tucks his head over my shoulder as his strong arms wrap around me, squeezing beneath my breasts.

I stiffen for a heartbeat before melting back against him. No one has ever held me like this, like I’m something precious to keep safe and warm. I’m used to one-night romps with men born from lust, but the way Desmond traces soothing circles against my waist is gentle, almost careful.