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“What are you doing?” I demand, trying to find the strength to pull away.
“Stop fighting me,” he says as he strips off my jacket and starts on my shirt.
“Erik,” I begin, but the shuddering stops my tongue from forming words.
He doesn’t speak, just tugs my shirt off. I’m too cold and too tired to feel self-conscious or awkward. And then he starts stripping himself.
“Erik!” It’s more of a shriek than a name.
Erik wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer until I’m cocooned in the heat of his body. My skin wakes and warms to his, and we stare at each other until I feel heat rising everywhere.
“I thought I lost you,” he murmurs.
“You didn’t,” I say.
“Adelice, I—”
“I know,” I stop him.
His lips are on mine, full but gentle, and I feel liberated by his kiss. The want of it. The need of it. We crush against each other. I explore every bit of his mouth—the subtle bow in his top lip, the softness of his bottom lip, where the two crease. When we pull apart, he’s breathless and wide-eyed, and I see myself, equally excited, reflected back in his irises.
After a few awkward pants, I laugh, and his mouth splits into a wide grin.
/> “We have horrible timing,” I say.
“No,” he says, showering me with dozens of tiny kisses. “Better late than never.”
He hovers over me, and I know we have to go. We have to find the others.
“We’ll have our time, Ad,” he promises me.
I reach up and brush his hair behind his ears, noticing that my fingers still tremble even though I’m no longer cold. I want to believe him.
* * *
The terrain onshore is difficult to navigate. The wild grass can’t be counted on for help. One handful might give me enough leverage to hike up higher, but the next betrays me. Erik pauses for a moment, farther up the hill than me.
“You know, Ad,” he calls over the bursts of wind off the water, “I could carry you up.”
“Like a sack of flour?” I ask in mock interest.
“Nah, like a newlywed,” he yells. “Over the threshold into a prison of lies.”
“What every girl dreams of,” I shout back. I don’t stop climbing, although a good part of me would like to see Erik trying to carry me up, and the wicked part of me has other reasons for wanting to be in his arms.
Erik loses his grip and slides back several feet, but I keep going. My effort is rewarded when my hand finds flat, solid ground, and hoisting myself up, I discover a road. Scrambling over the side, I sit and wait for Erik, feet dangling over the precipice I’ve surmounted.
He takes one look at me and groans. “You’re looking smug, Miss Lewys.”
“I’m feeling it,” I admit, kicking my feet back and forth.
“Mind taking a moment from your superiority and giving me a hand?”
I pull myself to my feet and lean over, arm out wide. “Benevolence is one of my many superior attributes.”
Erik uses me to balance, but I sense he’s trying not to put too much force on me.
“For Arras’s sake,” I swear, latching on to his hand more tightly and pulling against his weight, but then he pulls back and I stumble forward under his weight. A small cry escapes my lips before I realize he’s already on the road. He’s merely pulled me into his arms.
