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“Stop what?”
“Your face.” He snorted.
“I clearly cannot stop my face.”
Sipping more of the wine, he grinned. “I can see the thoughts in your eyes. They’re very emotive. The salve is forthe sores. The nurse was applying it.” He gestured at his chest. “Where the sand rubbed, it relieves it. It’s from a plant, the name of which I forgot.”
“Hm, she offered to apply it, did she?” Arin was shirtless, and although he’d caught too much sun and was scorched in places, his blue eyes were as startling as ever and his body quite the handsome picture of solid masculinity. The ripple of muscles down his chest, currently bunched as he sat, provided an enticing display. One I was sure the nurse had admired. “Here’s a thought. I can apply the rest of it, as I’m here. As a friendly gesture.”
He smirked, sipped the wine, and glanced toward the tent’s doorway. He hadn’t said no, so I was left to assume he didn’t hate the idea.
“What if Draven arrives?” he asked, face warming.
His blush was a beautiful thing. “What if he does? I’m applying a salve. It’s not as though I have my fingers plunged anywhere else.”
He snorted again and narrowed his eyes. “Just the chest?”
“Anyone would think you do not trust me.”
“Hm, why ever would anyone think that?”
I stood, giving him room to stretch his legs down the bed, then perched on the edge again so I could reach all of him. He leaned back but stayed propped up on his elbows, half suspicious, half amused. He certainly did not trust me.
I fought a smile from my lips. “This may surprise you, but I am capable of touching a man without wanting to fuck him,” I assured, although, that may have been something of a lie when it came to Arin.
I dipped my fingers into the pot, scooped some cool, smooth gel, and dabbed at his chest. He hissed, and I raised my eyebrows, careful to ignore the dart of lust that shot down my spine. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s cold.” He writhed.
I clenched my jaw, willing my body to calm. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea, because in a few moments, I would not be able to hide my physical response to his reaction.
“Lie back.”
He dropped his head onto his pillow. So obedient.
“Close your eyes.”
Frowning, he peered down his nose.
“All right, don’t close your eyes.” I dabbed the gel onto his sores and gently stroked it in, warming it to help with absorption. There may not have been many sores at his hip, but there was no harm in applying a little salve there. He jolted at the touch but didn’t demand I stop. He had smooth, fine hips, perfect for gripping.
When I looked up, he’d closed his eyes. At least now I didn’t have to hide how hard I’d become. We may have only shared a single night together in his palace bed of white and gold, but it had been enough to brand his body into my memory. That night had been a tease, and nothing like enough.
I flicked the sheet aside, exposing his naked thigh and his proud erection, lying thick against his navel. He hadn’t opened his eyes, but he must have felt the kiss of cool air on his cock.
If Draven happened to walk in now, I’d replace the sheet, and the warlord never had to know I’d had my gaze on his husband’s dick. A fine dick. I hadn’t had it between my lips enough. How was I supposed to resist, when it lay there, so well-behaved and quietly demanding?
“I dreamed of us, when I was near death,” Arin said, eyes still closed. “We were in the meadows. I’ve dreamed it before. And there was a light.”
Scooping some gel into my right hand, I worked it between my two fingers and thumb, warming it, then slid my grip down his length in one smooth, quick action. His hips tilted, his back arched, and Arin’s soft mouth opened in a perfectO.
We might have had trouble explaining this to Draven if he happened upon us. Still, pleasuring Arin was worth inciting the warlord’s wrath.
“Did you dream?” he asked, eyes still closed.
“I rarely dream.” I had dreamed, but I wasn’t dragging my nightmares into this blissful moment.
His eyes fluttered open. “You don’t dream?”
