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She reached down for his pants, but he grabbed her hand, pushing it up into the furs beside her head. “Not yet,” he breathed, then kissed her so deeply she moaned.

Then he was kissing down her body, slipping beneath the coat. Her body tingled with anticipation, with the contrasting feel of his scruff scraping against her bare skin and his warm, wet mouth. She gasped, back arching, as he pressed that mouth between her legs.

“Pyetar,” she moaned impatiently, but gods, it felt good.

She kept reminding herself to be quiet, but damn, it was hard. He was relentless. Licking and sucking and touching until he discovered what made her shake harder. Learning her. Iryana’s entire body was shaking, muscles squeezing tight.

“Pyetar,” she groaned, trying to pull him up to her.

She needed him and she didn’t want to wait.

He tilted his head back and looked up at her only long enough to say, “You promised to let me take care of you.”

Then his mouth was on her again, his fingers inside her, and she was building. Climbing until it felt like every nerve beneath his mouth tightened. It was burning so much it was cold, too much and yet not enough.

She tried to tell him but knew she couldn’t open her mouth without screaming. Still, he seemed to know, wildly rocking his mouth against her until she couldn’t take it anymore, and then he sucked hard.

That tightness, that burning cold, erupted through her body. Her every muscle clamped tight, back arching, mouth gaping. There was nothing in the world beyond that feeling.

When she finally came down, Pyetar was there. He kissed back up her body as the tremors worked their way through, as she caught her breath. When he finally reached her mouth and pulled back to look at her, his eyes blazed into hers, as if what he’d just done had worked as much for him as for her.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, pressing a hot kiss to her cheek. “Letting me take care of you?”

“I can see the benefits,” she rasped.

“You’re so flushed,” he observed, kissing the other cheek.

Finally, he let her push his pants down his hips. Let her palm him for a moment before he pulled her hand off and buried his face in her neck with a groan.

Iryana loved the look of his huge body angled over hers, but she pushed him over and he let her roll them until she was straddling him. Her braid fell beneath them, grazing his stomach. Pyetar held up the coat so it wouldn’t slide down her body while she pulled him beneath her, lining him up and sliding down onto him. Pyetar sucked in a breath, then a low rumbling groan erupted from him as he pulled the tie off the end of her braid.

In the shadow her body cast across his chest, Iryana could just make out his tattoos. The purple-tinged markings were like her own, but they wrapped around his chest, crisscrossing. He didn’t appear to mind her attention.

Pyetar seemed mesmerized as he pulled her braid apart, but he was breathing heavier with each move of her body. He didn’t stop until he lay between a curtain of her honey brown hair. A shiver worked up her as she remembered him saying how much he liked her hair down. She tried not to lean back, to let too much cold in, but it was hard to care about the frosty air when it felt so good to move against him.

His large hands roamed over her chest, down her sides. Sliding farther down, he gripped her hips, helping her rock against him, urging her faster.

She leaned down to kiss him, only to groan into his mouth from the added friction. Pyetar swallowed the sound, claiming her mouth. One of his hands drew up her back and fisted in her hair.

Her rhythm grew erratic until she was trembling more than she was moving over him. She bit her lip, trying to keep going, but Pyetar took over, rolling them until she lay beneath him.

She looked up at him, her hair fanned out around her on the furs, and her cheeks bright.

“I want to—” he grunted. “I want to watch you this time.”

She gasped and nodded, hands running up the tense muscles of his arms. She wanted him to see what he did to her, wanted to see how much he liked it.

He thrust slowly, watching her mouth gape as she tried to breathe, watching her hands reach above her for something to hold on to. He slowly sped up, moving deep inside her over and over. The thick muscles along his shoulders and arms flexed, his abs rolling. She watched his jaw clench, his eyes glazing over. He was so tense, so close. Holding himself back. The sight of it was her undoing.

With his hooded eyes still glued to her face, Iryana erupted. As her body clenched, he followed right behind her. They were all low moans and swallowed screams, anything to keep from alerting the dakii in the forest.

The bliss was endless, rolling through them with agonizing pleasure, but then her body slowly relaxed.

Pyetar leaned to the side as he collapsed, keeping most of his weight off her. Iryana ran her hands gently through his hair as she panted. When they were breathing at a regular pace, Pyetar cleaned them off, carefully wiped the sweat from the bodies, and then lay back on the furs, pulling her atop him. They were still warm enough that she didn’t worry about the top coat that had slipped down to her waist.

Pyetar ran his fingers through her hair, letting it slide across her back. Then he pulled it over her shoulder to bare her skin.

“It is still so strange to see,” he murmured, fingers dragging over her back. She nuzzled closer, hiding her face in his neck.