Page 59 of Ashborne Forged

His breath was growing heavier. Mine already came in puffs.

His fingers tightened in my hair. “Drop to your knees,” he croaked.

My heart leaped in my chest. I’d heard jokes the women of the court made about how much a man enjoyed a woman on her knees, and even though I gathered what was involved, I hadn’t tried that yet.

Uncertain how I felt about it, I lowered myself to my knees. “You’ll have to show me—”

“Hush. That’s not what we’re here for.”

I swallowed the words midsentence and knelt. The moment I sat back on my heels, he released my hair, and to my surprise, stepped back.

It was instinct to rest my hands in my lap, to cover myself. But I tried to be brave, lifting my chin to look up at him, my breath growing quicker.

His face was blank, but I could feel him in the bond. He was pleased. Relieved. And terrified? Outwardly, he looked coldly assessing.

“What are you—”

“You’re safe with me, Grace. You’re beautiful. Stop covering yourself.”

I pulled my hands to my sides, but it felt so awkward to kneel there, fingertips resting on the floor. I swallowed, but did as he bid, then looked up to find him staring at me, expressionless, but his eyes burning.

“Spread your knees.”

Shock jolted through me. I wanted him to touch me. Wanted him to kiss me. Wanted to be pressed against his body and feeling his hands and—

“Grace?”

I blinked and met his eyes. “Yes?”

“Spread. Your. Knees.”

Shaking a little, I did as he said, and spread my knees a few inches apart.

He growled. “More. Until your hips feel tight.”

I felt my cheeks heat and opened my mouth, ready to protest. But caught the look in his eye and swallowed those words too. Praying for courage, and no longer certain that this was thrilling, I pressed my knees as wide as I could make them without pain, and closed my eyes, because I was bare to him now. And he stared.

“Grace.”

“Yes?” My voice was too high.

“Open your eyes.”

I did, but kept them averted, staring at the rough floorboards under his feet.

“Look at me.”

My breath sucked in convulsively, but I did it. Cheeks blazing, I let my gaze slide up his body, wishing he was naked when I saw the bulge in his trousers, until I met his eyes. There was no missing the heat and admiration there. Which soothed me somewhat. But I still wished he’d join me. Match me. What could he show me from across the room?

He’d stepped back far enough that there was three paces between us. I felt unmoored. And a little bit ashamed.

“Grace, I said look at me.”

“I did.”

“Look at me,” he repeated tightly. “And don’t look away.”

Blowing out a breath, I braced myself and made myself meet his gaze—intent, dark, avid.