Page 62 of Heart’s Rescue

Rowan laughs, low and soft in his throat. His pale eyes move over my face, tangling in my hair, resting on my lips.

“I wasn’t talking about your hair,” he says. It’s almost a whisper.

“You don’t like my hair?” I ask the joke twisting free of my lips before I can stop it.

Mother hates my sarcasm. But Rowan leans forward and laughs again. This time I can feel his breath on my neck when he speaks.

“I like your hair,” he whispers.

Then his breath is replaced by his lips, and my mind combusts. My lips are open, but I can’t make a sound. He’s kissing my neck, his lips on my skin, and my body is suddenly aching and hot, scorching hot all over. His fingers drop from my arm to the curve of my stomach, pressing against the soft fabric of the shirt I’m wearing, the shirt that smells like him.

And then his lips are on mine, and I’m opening for him, begging for him. Our tongues embrace like old lovers, like we’ve both done this a thousand times before. I feel like I’m burning, like I’m dying. I let my legs fall open and break our kiss.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

It’s more of an invitation than Folwynn has ever needed or received, and that thought turns the back of my mouth bitter. I don’t want Folwynn here. Arryn of the Lands Below has no need for him.

Rowan laughs again, soft and warm against my skin. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t push my legs apart to climb between them. A thread of fear twists through the hard, hot knot of arousal pulsing in my core. Doesn’t he want this? Isn’t that what he just said?

His fingers tug at the edge of my shirt, then dance over my bare skin. I pull in a breath as my back stiffens and rises to meet his touch. His fingers slide over the edge of my silk underwear. I lift my hips, helping him slip them down my thighs. Folwynn usually didn’t bother; he just ripped them or forced the fabric aside.

And Folwynn’s in my mind again. I bite my lip, trying to shove the prince out. Then Rowan leans down to press his lips against my neck, and Folwynn is gone. But still, Rowan doesn’t roll on top of me, doesn’t take what I’m offering. I tilt my hips toward him, and a sound that’s almost a moan slips from my lips.

Rowan responds by trailing his fingers along the inside of my thigh. Stars, his touch is driving me mad! I’ve never wanted a man so desperately before, never longed for the bittersweet pain and pleasure of joining like this. Rowan places his hand between my legs.

“W-What are you doing?” I gasp.

His fingers still, and for a heartbeat I wish I’d said nothing. When he speaks, his words send shivers dancing across my skin.

“Arryn,” Rowan whispers. “Is this your first time?”

“No,” I stammer. “But, you’re— you’re touching me—”

Like I touch myself, I think but do not say. I’m sure it’s wrong, the way I touch myself at night, hidden beneath the covers. I’m so sure it’s wrong that I’ve never told anyone about it. But Rowan seems to know anyway.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks.

“No.”

The word comes out in a gasp, a puff of steam between us. His fingers move against the nest of curls between my legs, exploring my heat. My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment all of the worlds stand still.

“Is there something else you would like?” Rowan whispers.

His fingers have found that spot, that secret spot I’d thought was mine alone, and my body is starting to rock against his hand in a way I’m not sure I could stop. My mind feels like it’s crumbling, like sand against the tide, and somehow his touch against my sex is singing through my entire body. I can feel him everywhere, all over me, and I’m burning, and it’s almost too much.

“I—I thought—” I gasp, “I thought you would— mount me.”

Rowan laughs, and somehow that only makes me burn hotter.

“Mount you?” His breath licks my neck. “What, stuff your head and put it on the wall?”

I try to answer, try to think of something clever, but Rowan curls his fingers inside me, and apparently my mind is no longer speaking to my mouth because all of me, mind and mouth and all the rest, is falling apart beneath his touch. Stars, no one has ever felt this good, nothing has ever felt this good. My hips are kicking against his hand, I’m moaning like I’m dying, and I couldn’t stop this if I wanted to, nothing could stop this—

The wave breaks, and I shatter. I’m dimly aware of crying out, gasping, as tremors shake my body and obliterate my mind. Then I’m panting on the furs as the ropes of the canvas shelter swim in and out of my vision, and Rowan is breathing beside me, his chest rising and falling against my arm.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t have words anymore, I barely even have thoughts. My breathing slows, and now I’m very aware of the man beside me, the solid heat of his presence, his leg against mine, his chest pressed to my arm.

I roll over and let my hands speak for me. Slowly, I run my fingers along his arm, feeling the curvature of his muscles beneath his skin, the warmth of him rising to meet me. His breath catches as I find the edge of his shirt and dip my hand beneath the fabric to trace the ridges of his abdomen. I’d thought he was cold, this stranger from the Kingdom of the Fall. I’d thought he was cold and hard as ice when he’d surprised me in the forest.