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Her lips parted. “O-okay.” She turned and started to climb. “But I thought I was going to get to watch you—”
“No,” he said. “Climb up there like a good girl and wait for me.”
She shivered. “Oh.”
“Good?” He was unsure.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He was pleased.
She climbed. She looked down to see him gaping at her as she did. Then she turned back and climbed the rest of the way into the loft. She’d never been up here before. There was a mattress lying directly on the floor, swathed in tapestries and fringed blankets. In the corner, hanging from a hook, were a set of wooden prayer beads, a red tassel hanging from the bottom.
She hunched at the top of the ladder, eyeing those, thinking of how he swore on the sacred teachings instead of saying tangles and briars like most elves and fae and people of her ancestry.
He was coming up the ladder. She turned. He used his arms on the rungs, but the bottom half of him sort of flowed over it, undulating side to side, and she stared at that, mesmerized.
“Out of the way,” he told her in a commanding voice.
She giggled and threw herself on the bed.
He appeared at the top of the ladder and crawled over to her.
She gasped as he slid in on top of her, the weight of his snake body on one of her thighs, his bare chest sliding against her body. She sank her hands into his hair.
He smiled down at her, eyes half-lidded. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”
She liked that. She shook her head, grinning now, a grin too big for her face. She tugged him down, tugged on his hair, kissed him again.
He sighed against her mouth, and then pushed up. “You, uh, you want to show me everything?”
She nodded. “I do. But tell me to do it?”
“Take off your top for me,” he said, his voice gravelly. “Show me your bra?”
“Not wearing one,” she said. She almost never did. She didn’t have a lot going on up there and then, with the wing nubs, it was difficult to find things that worked.
“Even better.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She giggled.
“Show me your…” He winced. “Um, you want me commanding or dirty?”
“Dirty,” she said.
“Tits,” he said. “Show me your tits.”
She shimmied out of the shirt immediately, tossing it to one side and then felt exposed and excited and unsure of herself. She wasn’t well-endowed or anything, but she didn’t think that mattered very much in the end. Guys didn’t care.
But he wasn’t looking at her chest, when she looked at him, he was looking at her face.
Their gazes locked, and she choked at the intensity in there. She meant it when she said intensity was okay, but… it shook her.
He was shedding his scarf. Just like that, he was naked. He slowly lowered his gaze, and she felt it, dragging over her lips, her chin, her neck, her clavicle. And then he settled on her breasts, and she could swear her nipples got hard from his gaze.
She shuddered, closing her eyes.
“Good,” he said softly. “That’s good. Look at you.” He gathered one of her breasts up in his hand.
