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The conversation seemed to be waning. I searched for something else to say, feeling awkward and nervous.
Then Vesper touched my cheek. Instantly, a bolt of heat went through me. His touch was both tender and dangerous, a lethal combination. Especially when someone was as innocent and inexperienced as I was.
I looked into his golden eyes. His fingers traced my cheekbones, rough yet gentle. He cradled my jaw with one hand, and then, with a sudden boldness, tilted my chin up and claimed my mouth in a searing kiss.
Once again I was lost in the sensation of his lips on mine. His fingers moved to the back of my neck, toying with the wisps of loose hairs at my nape. My body shuddered as his fingers skimmed lightly over my sensitive skin, eager for his every touch. The brush of his thumb sent a quiver down my spine.
He broke away. “Walk with me, Pen?”
He pulled me to my feet. My knees were embarrassingly shaky.
We made our way a little distance into the woods. Not too far this time. Close enough that I could still see the faint glow of our fire. Far enough away that we wouldn't be seen or heard. I hoped. My stomach was a turmoil of butterflies. I prayed Draven would stay sound asleep.
I knew it was brash and reckless, but amidst all of the horror I had been through over the last few months, Vesper seemed like a shining beacon of good.
All I wanted was more of whatever this was, blooming so rapidly between us. More of him. For him to hold me in his arms and kiss me and tell me it was all going to be all right. If I were being honest, part of me wanted him to tell me I’d never have to go back to Camelot again. Or forwards to Valtain either. That I could just stay here, with him, forever.
Of course, I knew that could never be the case, but it was a nice fantasy nonetheless.
I felt a twinge of guilt. I had lied to him from the start. Who would want to be with someone like that?
Vesper pulled me up against him, leaning back against a tree. “Every thought in my head is of you, Pen. I can't get enough of you.”
“I know what you mean,” I whispered back, my heart pounding. Surely such small and harmless lies wouldn't matter. Someday I could tell him the truth. If he cared for me, he would understand, wouldn't he?
I breathed in the smell of him. Fresh pine and cool mountain air.
The tip of his tongue brushed my bottom lip, parting my mouth, and sweeping in. I tasted him, woodsmoke and pepper and the sweet caramel flavor of the ale we'd been drinking with our supper.
He pulled me tighter against him, my breasts against his chest, my hips against his hard thighs. My body felt tight. I had never been so aware of my breasts before. Heavy, aching. Nipples hard and pressing against my tunic.
“This isn't like me,” I murmured against his lips. “I don't do things like this.”
It was true. But there was a first time for everything.
He pulled back. “And you think I do?”
“Well, don't you?” All of those towns and taverns, all of those raucous festivals.
He tilted his head consideringly, then grinned. “Not as often as you might think.” He kissed me lightly. “Nothing like this.”
"Like this? What is this?" I whispered.
He shook his head slowly. “I don't know. But it's intoxicating. I want more. Don't you?” He studied me, his golden eyes shining in the moonlight. “You've really never done anything like this before?”
I shook my head shyly. “Is that... all right?”
He gave a low laugh that sent flutters through my belly. “Many men would say it was more than all right.”
I felt a prickle of unease, but he lowered his lips to mine, kissing it away. “But I'm not that kind of man. Still, best to start slow.”
He ran his hands lightly down my back then over my hips, reminding me once again of how close our bodies were.
His lips caressed mine, the kiss stronger now, hot and coaxing. His hands held me firmly against him, and then, with a sudden movement, he moved around, flipping me so that my back was pressed against the trunk of the tree. His mouth met mine again, parting my trembling lips, hard and demanding.
With one hand, he held my waist while with the other he cupped one of my breasts through my tunic, rubbing his fingers across the soft muslin and over the hard bud of my nipple. I shuddered and trembled, thankful for the tree trunk holding me up.
“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, arching slightly against him. “Whatever it is, don't stop.”
