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Warm shivers slithered down my spine. “Well, I don’t stand in the way of safety measures.”
“Yes. That is something for which I am excessively grateful.”
His face lowered, and I tilted my chin upward to meet him. His mouth closed over mine. A caress. A testing of the boundaries we were breaching. I shouldn’t have allowed him to touch me, to kiss me. Every line we crossed was another layer of pain for both of us when everything inevitably ended in ruin.
But when his mouth came crashing down with a passion that ignited a fire in my belly, I knew no matter how bad things became, tonight I just didn’t give a damn.
I kissed him, hard, that raging in my stomach impelling me to press my mouth against him longer, harder.
I opened my mouth to him, and his tongue thrust between my lips, exploring, dragging over the roof. My tongue lifted, entangling with his. I curled my free arm around his neck, tugging him closer.
A soft moan issued from one of us, maybe both of us. His hands flowed over me like water, coming to rest on my hips. The pliant mattress gave as he dropped, aligning his hips with mine. And then his whole body rolled over me in a powerful thrust. I broke our kiss to let out a gasp.
Oh god.
I took a breath, my mind whirling at that simple movement, and I shoved my hips upward. “Again,” I whispered.
He rolled, grinding against me, his chest grating relentlessly against my breasts, hands tightening on my hips. He did it again, and again in a steady rhythm, his breaths coming fast. Mine came ragged, soft moans spilling from me as my lower half rocked with every thrust. His hardness through his trousers pressed into that most sensitive spot between my legs, digging deeper, rougher. My gown rubbing between us, adding extra friction to Dagda’s movements.
A wildness filled me, and I rammed into him as he slammed down. I jerked his tunic upwards and dragged my nails across his skin, drawing a deep sound from his lips. He had to press so hard that I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted him to take me, to take everything. I needed it to rage and burn me to nothing. The fire in my belly split, rushing downward and up to my chest. I threw back my head, my body arching into him as a cry ripped out of me.
He stilled. For a moment, we just lay there, our bodies pressed together, our breaths coming deep. I wriggled underneath him, grasping at my gown to get to my underwear, needing to feel him inside me.
With a herculean effort, Dagda heaved himself off of me and onto the other side of the bed. He sat with shoulders hunched, his legs off the side, his back to me.
That wasn’t all there was. I lay on the mattress, my body spread, the gown bunched up to my thighs. He’d been ready. That hardness had pounded against me through his pants, through my nightie.
And yet, he’d stopped.
Just as he had with Macha.
My body still raged from his touch. I rolled onto my knees. My nightgown twisted around my legs, and a wetness coated my underwear, giving off a delicate scent that I wondered whether Dagda smelled.
I slid my palms over his shoulders and pressed myself against him. “Don’t you want to continue?”
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, but scooted away. “You have no idea how much I want to continue.”
The absence of his warmth left me empty. I tried to keep my face passive, to hide the ache of his rejection. “So why don’t you?”
“I feel it would be unwise.”
Dagda better not be using this as some archaic excuse to place me on a pedestal. The thought was laughable. “If this is about protecting my virtue—”
“It is not that.”
“Then what?”
His hair tangled where he’d raked his hands through it a second time. Desire and confusion burned through both of us. “Affairs are moving rather swiftly between us and… I do not want you to despise me in the morning.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Trust me. It won’t be you I despise.”
He turned to face me, his eyes narrowed. “That is not better.”
I grit my teeth, trying to shove aside the disappointment. I didn’t need him, anyway. This was a moment of weakness. I shrunk back onto my side of the bed. God, I didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
I tried to think of something, anything, to change the subject. “Tell me about Morrigan?”
His brows rose, clearly caught off guard. “What would you like to know?” The gruffness in his voice told me he was still coming down from his own arousal.
