Page 162 of Scars Beneath a Serpent’s Scales

“Why?” he repeated. It didn’t feel like prodding, though. It was the innocent curiosity that drove his reckless reputation. It was the need to figure out all the pieces of the world—of her. Heat flushed through her at the realization that her pieces may just be the most important ones to this beautiful, infuriating, devoted man before her.

Because that was what he was. To his family, to his commitments, and perhaps to her—Roremar Silventa bled devotion.

Why? his steady stare implored.

Because I want you so badly, I fear it will rip my heart from my chest.

Because it’s so intimate—and I already feel too much—it will give you the power to shatter me.

Because I’ve pieced myself back together so many times, I don’t know if I can manage another.

“Because I can’t,” was all she offered, unable to give him everything.

Roremar’s lips set in a firm line as he took her in, and she wasn’t certain what part of her he was seeing. She’d become so good at shielding, she didn’t even know where the walls ended anymore. But lately, they’d all been blurring where this warrior was concerned, becoming a bit more opaque as he allowed her to slowly wipe the fog from the glass between them.

Whatever Roremar picked apart had him nodding. “Whatever you need. No kissing.” Then, with one more gentle squeeze of her thighs, he stepped back.

“What are you doing?” Emmeline asked, something within her yearning for his touch again.

“No kissing. No touching.”

The challenge lifted her chin. “What? Why?”

“If I touch you, I’m going to want to kiss you. There’s no way I’m going to resist tasting you. If that’s your boundary, I can’t risk it, Emmeline.”

Fates, her name on his tongue once again. Every time he said it tonight, it undid her a little more. Made her feel a little more seen. Gave her a little more of something personal to remember.

She swallowed. “So what are we doing, then?”

He took a few more steps back and leaned against the wall beside the bathing tub. “You’re going to touch yourself.” He crossed his arms. “And I’m going to watch.”

Her thighs slipped a bit closer, her voice breathless. “What?”

“If that’s okay with you?”

Her flesh was hot, every inch burning with his stare on her. A throbbing started between her thighs, and she squeezed them tighter to alleviate it.

Roremar didn’t miss it, a smirk tilting up one corner of his lips. “I need you to tell me if it’s okay, Em.”

Em. He said it with such ownership, possession. Like that name was his and his alone for her. Something in her sang at the sound.

“Yes,” she breathed. She did want this—to have him see her. It was more exposed and vulnerable than she’d ever been with anyone. This wasn’t mystlights dimmed, feeling each other’s bodies beneath the sheets as both parties found a quick release.

This was intimate. And with him, that didn’t scare her.

No, when he said, “Good. Take off your panties and spread your legs,” the needy part of her glowed at the command.

Anticipation pounding in her chest, she did as he instructed, propping herself on the edge of the counter to shimmy the lace down her legs. His eyes started at hers, taking his time memorizing every piece of her as they dropped down. When his gaze landed between her thighs, the silvers heated.

“Fates, Emmeline,” he exhaled, hands fisting.

She bit her lip. “Regretting your rules?”

He cleared his throat, adjusting the evident length pressing against his leathers. “No. Now I get to watch.” His heated stare on her center turned her molten. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip harder. She wanted him saying those words from his knees before her again, him fulfilling every fantasy she’d imagined with that tongue of his. She’d tried not to, but ever since she told him the truth of her past, a reluctant crack had been cleaved in her walls. And through it, those curiosities flooded.

As she pictured it now, she squirmed on the countertop, wetness gathering before she’d even touched herself.