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“One would have to fly here or shift, but I warded the place to keep others out long ago. Only those I trust extensively can enter.”
“Why bring me here?” I twist just enough to see the serenity smoothing out all the planes of his face. So calm and peaceful. Just like our surroundings.
Sigurd slides his arm around me until his palm is splayed across my waist. “I think you know. And I do believe you promised me more filthy words.”
He may as well have lit me on fire. I pull away. Or maybe he’s the flame because if I’d lingered in his embrace a second longer, I’d have certainly turned into a puddle on the mossy ground. A rather human-looking house, like an old, haunted Victorian manor, rises up behind him. Sigurd’s lips quirk into a grin, and all those filthy words that Ineverutter rise to the tip of my tongue.
Instead, I cross my arms and scowl at him down the length of my nose. “I think you’ve gotten many more words than you ought to have.”
“Not the dirty ones,” he pouts.
I roll my eyes.
“I still can’t believe that you… You…” I huff and turn away, but there’s nowhere to run. Not unless I want to fling myself off the edge of this island. Clever man.
“Would you rather have been alone?”
I sigh and drop my arms. No, I wouldn’t have. So many times, that eagle was what got me through. An outlet for my thoughts, a comfort in the loneliness.
“The things I said though.” Gosh, I was cruel enough to him in person, and I never would have said a fourth of that if I’d known someone listened. And, oh— The fire is back, raging hotter than ever. “I changed in front of that eagle.”
“Yes.” His lips curl in a slow grin. “You did.”
“You awful, perverted, peeping tom!”
He grins. “There’s that mouth.”
“Ridiculous.” I stomp my foot. “Do you have no decency?”
“Of course I do. I looked away…most of the time.”
“Sigurd.”
“Say it again.” He closes the distance between us.
My pulse hammers in my ears. My breath comes short and quick. “Say what?”
“My name on those delightful lips.”
My mouth goes dry. “You don’t think they’re filthy?”
The back of his gloved hand trails down my cheek, and I shiver as he says, “I could never think you filthy, not even covered in mud.”
“Si—”
His lips crash against mine, eager and demanding then soft and tentative, as if someone tugged on the leash of his restraint.
But the act shatters mine.
I lean into his kiss, stretching on my toes and wrapping my arms around his neck to tug him closer. He groans against me as my fingers slide through his hair, just as soft and delightful as I imagined.
Sigurd’s arms are around me, holding me close as if he could make us one instead of two.
In that moment, we are. It’s everything I dreamed of and feared. He’s the smoothest whiskey, the highest high, and I run headlong into my desire for him, heedless of any risk of a future crash.
His tongue darts out, begging me to part for him. I do. Each flick of his tongue against mine sends my head spinning faster and faster. Nothing is left of the world but us. We could be flying high above it. I wouldn’t know, and I wouldn’t be afraid, not with his arms around me and him kissing me back like his life depends on it.
He’s hard everywhere, all armor and muscle, but I don’t miss the deep groan in his chest as I rub against him, eager to get as close as possible, or the way his stance shifts as he tugs me tighter. Everything in me is melty and warm—perfect.
