Chapter 17
Carver’s pulse hurtled through his veins. Voice hoarse, heart pounding, he said, “Touch me any way you want.”
They both watched Bel’s hovering hand move closer. She finally placed her palm over his quickly beating heart, and his breath shuddered out.
“Did I hurt you?” She started to drop her hand away, but Carver caught it and brought it back.
“No.” He let go quickly after pressing her hand harder against his chest. “You’re hot but not burning. You won’t hurt me anywhere except my back.”
Her glittering, blue-green eyes flicked up, more stunning than the sea. “I should be doing the promising. I could burn you alive, even by accident.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t know that.” Slowly, she moved her hand toward his neck, sliding a finger along his collarbone and into the hollow of his throat. “ I can’t know that.” Cocking her head, she dipped her finger into the V where his tunic laced up.
Desire leaped in his blood. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed out.
Bel scoffed, her intent gaze still focused on his throat. Her hand lingered on the cord of the necklace she’d given him months ago before leaving together on another mission, the blue-and-white eye to ward off malevolence tucked safely under his tunic. “Eryx didn’t blind you, did he?”
Carver shook his head. His whole body ached for more of her touch. “You smell like almond cream and cooked cherries with sugar baked on top. I want to lick you.”
Her eyes jerked back up, round with shock. “Do people do that?”
His mouth watered for her right now, all his senses alive with want. “Of course. Why not?”
Her jaw slid open. Then she shuffled closer and lifted to her toes. “Like this?” Bracing her hand on his chest, she leaned forward and ran her tongue up the entire column of his neck.
A strangled sound tore from Carver’s throat. Arousal shot scorching blood toward his cock. “That’s a good start.” A little abrupt and unexpected, but perfectly Bel. He clenched and unclenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. She smoldered enough to warm his entire front, but she controlled her flames, and all he felt was a heavy, pressing lust and a deeper need so powerful it clamped down on every part of him like a vise. “You can do it again,” he rasped.
Her face stayed a nervous pink, but she tipped forward and flicked her tongue into the V of his neck. Carver groaned and went fully hard. Leave it to Bel to skip kissing and go straight to licking. He supposed he’d brought it up.
She did it again, her soft tongue swirling against his desire-hot skin, and he took a steadying breath. He wanted her, all of her, in every way possible, and keeping still and not reciprocating was proving a bigger challenge than he’d thought.
Rocking back on her heels, she peered up at him with a frown. “You don’t taste like anything. You smell a bit like cedar, though.”
He chuckled at her blunt assessment—also so perfectly Bel. “It’s my soap.” Carver fought the urge to wrap his arms around her and lower his mouth to hers. It would be the most searing kiss of his life—he had no doubt.
Bel moved forward again and stuck her nose against his neck. She inhaled deeply, and Carver shuddered, every muscle achingly taut. She exhaled a warm breath against his skin, then inhaled again. “I like your soap.”
“Glad to hear it,” he croaked. She was always buying little cedar boxes to stash her smaller belongings in. He knew she liked the smell of it, which was probably why he always chose this soap.
She bit her lip, uncertainty clouding her expression again. “What else should I do?”
He had a thousand ideas, and they clamored to come out. But this was about Bel understanding that there were no rules other than respecting what your partner liked. Maybe then, she’d let go of her fear. “There is no ‘should.’ Just explore however you want.”
For the first time in long minutes, curiosity seemed to outweigh the worry in her eyes. Cautiously, she tilted her face up and placed a light kiss near the corner of his mouth. Then she sprang away, her wide, wary gaze meeting his.
Carver’s heart nearly broke through his chest. It was torture not to reach for her and draw her back, but Bel needed to be in control of this, or she’d run. And since he couldn’t touch, he’d talk. “I want to undress you little by little and kiss and lick every freckle I find.” Her magic-bright eyes flared—bigger, blazing—and her hand rose to her chest. “Yes, there.” His gaze dipped over her, lingering on her breasts. “And everywhere.”
Her breathing sped up, and Bel tugged at the neck of her tunic. Carver wondered if she realized she was opening it for him. “Why? Why do you…” She suddenly stopped talking and glanced down. Losing her burning gaze was like snuffing out a lamp.
Carver touched her enough to tilt her head back up. “Why do I want you?” It was even harder to draw his hand back once he’d given in.
She nodded, another flash of unsure heat dyeing her cheeks a deep pink. “There are so many more…alluring women.”
Carver frowned. What was she talking about? Bel was so blinding he’d been fixated on her since the day they met. He barely saw anyone else. “Why do you undervalue yourself?”
“I don’t. I excel at plenty of things. Beauty isn’t one of them.”
“First, I disagree.” His eyes roamed over her. She exceled at imperceptiveness, too, but there was no way she could miss the heat in his gaze. “Hair the color of a sunset. Eyes like sapphires with emeralds shining underneath. A body that’s strong and fit.”
“And straight.”
“I see curves that are just right. If you tell me I can touch you, I’ll show you where they are.”
Her eyes widened and seemed to spark. Her color stayed high, her skin hot. Voice husky, she asked, “And second? If there’s a first, there must be a second.”
“Second, beauty is nice—and I think you’re beautiful—but prettiness doesn’t matter if it’s just a shell. It’s everything you are underneath that makes my heart pound and my hands ache to touch you everywhere.”
She inhaled sharply. Was it possible for Bel’s breath to suck his soul straight from his body? Because that was how he felt. “My heart is pounding, too,” she whispered, inching closer.
Hope swelled in Carver’s chest. “Then kiss me. Come closer and kiss me here.” He touched his mouth. “But if you kiss me, my hands will be on you. I will touch you. And we’ll both like it.”
A sun-flare glow built on her skin. She tamed it quickly, but still, she hesitated. “What about your back?”
Carver quirked a brow. “You can kiss my back another time. I’m sure we’ll both like that, too.”
Bel loosed a reluctant smile, which felt like another victory. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“The only torture is not touching you, holding you, kissing you. Please.” Gods, he’d beg for her. It wasn’t even hard. Never reaching for wine anymore was hard. Leaving his family was hard. Begging for Bel to choose them came as naturally as breathing.
White-hot magic swirled around her. “Carver…”
“I know this is right. I know it in ways I can’t even begin to describe—like it was written inside me all along, but I couldn’t read the words. We’re always gravitating toward each other, even if it’s only to collide, ricochet off, then bounce back for more. You leave me wound so tight. Every day. Every night. We spar with weapons and words, but it’s not enough. Not anymore.” A need that was so much more than just physical desire blunted every other ache in his body. Low, sure, he said, “This has been in the making since the day we met. You must know that. What are you afraid of? Tell me, and we’ll figure it out. Or…tell me I’m wrong, and I won’t push you again.”
She clamped her mouth shut. Hesitation and obvious worry dampened her fire; then her words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m afraid I’ll be a terrible kisser. I’m afraid you’ll realize you made a horrible mistake. I’m afraid you’ll wish you never came here. I’m afraid you’ll regret everything—that you’ll regret… me .” She paled, distress in her eyes. Then she pressed her lips together again, swallowing hard.
“None of that will happen.” He gently shook his head. “I followed you here because I wanted to. I haven’t regretted it once. All I want now is to finish our mission so we can put it behind us and build a life.”
Her sliding step back in response struck him like a punch to the stomach. “What if I kiss like a donkey? What if I’m stiff as a board and awkward during…”—she went flame red—“intercourse.”
“I’d have to kiss a donkey to get a fair comparison, but why don’t we take it one step at a time and leave farm animals out of the bed?”
She stopped her slow glide away from him and scowled. “You’re laughing at me.”
“Barely.” Carver smiled because she made him happy, not because he wanted to mock her fears. “And I have no doubt you’ll be a natural once you try. You’re infuriatingly good at everything you do. It’s hard work keeping up with you. Look how fast you learned to use and control that new magic. Just days? I’ve been around enough Magoi to know it usually takes weeks. Months. Kissing—and lovemaking—will be no different. Practice makes perfect.” And all he wanted was to start.
A kaleidoscope of embarrassment, apprehension, and interest careened across her face. “You mean, you learn as you go?”
He nodded. “We’ll learn together.”
Her gaze turned wary even as what he hoped were eager flames raced through her hair. “But you already know.”
“I knew one person a long time ago.” Moving toward her, Carver gave in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and cup her cheeks. It wasn’t a seductive touch. It was comfort, reassurance. He needed it, too. “I want to learn you .”
Bel clamped her eyes shut but didn’t back away from him. “I’ll ruin it. I know I will. There’s not a scrap of softness in me, Carver. Inside or out.”
He didn’t believe that—or not the way Bel thought. She might not show affection in the usual ways, but she cared . She cared so much she turned her life around and dedicated it to helping others. He was lucky to have a portion of her devotion, and maybe it made him greedy, but he wanted more.
He tilted her head up. “Open your eyes.” She did, slowly lifting a thick sweep of lashes. Her fear-drenched gaze pierced his heart. There wasn’t much Bel was afraid of, and yet the thought of them— him —filled her with dread. “I want you .” He finally got it, and now it seemed so clear. His brother Griffin had been destined for Cat—his fated mate. Maybe Konstantina had left him because he was never meant to be hers. “I don’t need or expect you to change. I know you. I’m not going into this blind. And I don’t believe for a second we’ll sail on smooth seas. You and I? We’re a storm. We’ll crash against the rocks a thousand times and still come back for more. The only question now is how you feel about me.” True, breath-shaking panic swamped him. “If all you want is friendship, then I’ll stop asking for more. We’ll go back to how it was before.” It would slowly kill him, but he’d respect her choice.
Bel met his steady gaze, her chest rising and falling, her eyes jewel-bright and wide. Hesitantly, she said, “I didn’t burn you on the beach to get you away from me. It was an accident. You startled me. I didn’t understand.”
“I know.” Carver slowly dipped his head, resting his forehead against hers. He briefly closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. Her skin was so warm. She smelled so good. “I took you by surprise. I surprised myself, to be honest. I’m sorry.”
“I was sorrier when you walked away.”
“Did you want me to kiss you?” Hope rose again in his chest.
She nodded, her forehead brushing his. “After I had a second to think about it, yes.”
Heat engulfed him. His mouth watered for her cherry lips. Words thick and gravelly, he confessed, “You’re deep in my soul. You’re the fire that brought me back to life.”
Bel wet her lips. “I think about you all the time. I ache everywhere. There’s this…tension. And heat.”
“That’s desire,” he rasped. “Kiss me, Bel. Kiss me, and I’ll take the edge off your ache.”
Her breath battered his chin as she gradually tipped up her head. Her nose slid against his cheek. The corner of her mouth touched his. Carver kept utterly still even as he went wild inside. His lips parted, their breath mingling. Their mouths hovered in the same space, and time seemed to stop.
Bel waited there for eternity and a day before slowly pressing her lips against his. The best kind of tension whipped through Carver. Relief flooded him. Sparks crackled around Bel, the little fires too quick and sudden to burn. He pressed back against her lips. Her glow intensified, the hot radiance flickering as she fought to rein in her magic. A worried sound hummed against his mouth.
“That’s it,” he praised as she cooled, allowing them to stay close. “Mind over matter.”
Her soft gust of laughter breezed over his lips. “Kissing is easier than I thought.”
Carver chuckled. Bel was exactly what he imagined she’d be—heat and vitality and a little awkward at first. “Oh, darling, this is a kiss.”
He slid his hands into her spark-scattered hair, gently angling her head and using his mouth to coax open her lips. Bel’s breath hitched. She gripped his shoulders. Her body sank into his, and she instinctively mimicked the way he worked his mouth against hers. The scents of cooked sugar and warm cherries billowed around them, and he devoured the fragrance of her magic along with her mouth. So good. So right. His heart pounded like a thousand oars off island shores, and she softened, opened, naturally giving back. Each press of their lips stripped away caution and clumsiness, and they found a rhythm that would be just theirs, their perfect pace and pressure. Arousal sizzled through him like never before, and Bel moaned, leaning against him, hips to hips, chest to chest.
With three quick steps, Carver backed her against the wall. She let out a little grunt of surprise, then her eyes swept up, locking with his. She speared her hands into his hair and pulled his mouth back to hers.
Primal satisfaction roared inside Carver. There was nothing timid about her kiss, and an inferno of passion ignited so fast he reeled. He groaned against her lips. How long had he been craving this? It seemed like forever even though only being in Atlantis had made him understand. He slid his hands down her body to her waist. He tugged her against him, and her breathy sound of arousal caressed his lips as they moved together, slowly rocking their hips. Finally touching her, kissing her, telling her how he felt made him more aware than ever of the half-life he’d been living up until now, just holding his breath and waiting for this .
Desire pulled tight inside him. His cock grew heavy and stiff. He lifted a hand to her chest and cupped her breast, gently squeezing. Bel broke their kiss with a gasp. She looked at him, magic brightening her face.
“You’re soft anywhere I could want,” he murmured, learning the feel of her modest curves. “Here.” He brushed his thumb across her nipple, and her breath rushed out in a gust. “And your lips.” He flicked his tongue against her lower lip. She swayed, her firelit hair heating up. “And here.” He rolled his hips, the evidence of his desire pressing against her lower abdomen. “You’re exactly what I want. Inside and out.”
Huskily, she said, “You’re using my own words against me.”
That throaty hitch in her voice and the feel of her strong, slim body as she pressed back made him groan out his next words, “There is no against you. We’re one.”
“One.” Bel tipped her head back against the wall, no fear in her eyes now, just desire and trust. “Yes.”
All those years of pining and brooding and faking good humor seemed so far away and unreal to him now. A waste. Or just a filler—until this. “You’re mine now. And you’re right about how I love. It’s great and undying, and I will never let you go.”
Green embers blazed to life in her eyes. Her tremendous power seemed to condense in her magic-charged gaze, but her question came out soft and a little hesitant as she asked, “Is this where you claim me?”
She’d always mocked the southern Sintan custom of claiming, saying it was barbaric and hardly a replacement for a traditional marriage ceremony, but now she looked intrigued. “I’ll claim you when I’m inside you,” he said, thrusting against her in a message she couldn’t miss.
Bel’s shimmering eyes turned hooded, need misting over the magic in them. “Claiming is primitive.” Breathless, she met his lips, kiss for kiss. “A tribal ritual.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll try to find some pretty words, Your Highness.”
Her gaze lifted to his. “Then we’d really be married? Husband and wife?”
“Only if you claim me back.” Bel had always willfully misunderstood the Sintan Hoi Polloi tradition. Claiming had never been You’re mine , it was always I’m yours , but his people’s custom was only as good as law if they both said the words.
She nodded, sliding her hands up his chest and touching his jaw. “I’ll think about it.”
It was clear she teased, but a warning growl still rumbled in Carver’s chest as he lowered his head for a long, slow melding of lips that quickly turned into fiery, hungry, soul-deep kisses that tangled every part of their mouths. His entire awareness narrowed to the woman in his arms. Bel pressed against him, moving restlessly but careful never to slip her hands around his back. All he wanted was to strip her naked and push inside her, but he doubted she was ready for that, and neither was he. Most of his body right now was a throbbing mix of pain and pleasure, which seemed fitting for anything involving Bel.
He kissed her until her heat flooded him and her breath became his. “You’re my delight and my torment,” he gruffly admitted. “I can’t remember a day that wasn’t true.”
Drawing back, her brow creasing, she asked, “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s what kept me locked to your side.”
“You’ll still want me if I torment you?”
A low laugh rumbled out of him. “I’m pretty sure I’ll want you more.”
Bel looked uncertain of that, her frown deepening. “I never imagined wanting to be touched. Now I can’t seem to get enough. I want more.”
Victory chimed inside him again, and he smiled. “I vow to touch you in places you never even dreamed of.” He kissed her neck to her shoulder, tasting hot cherry magic with hints of baked sugar and almond cream. “If you’d smelled like this in Thalyria, you would’ve driven me insane.” Gripping her hips, he swirled his tongue against her skin.
“Oh.” She exhaled sharply, going slack in his arms. Carver propped her back up, securing her with his body. Her breath jumped in and out, her shimmering eyes soft and heavy-lidded now. He nuzzled her earlobe. “Why insane?” she breathed out.
“Because for some reason, I thought we were just friends who liked to rile each other up.” He kissed her again, a bone-deep rightness saturating his soul. “I was a fool.”
“Friends who collide like flint on steel?”
“See how long we’ve been making sparks?” Grinning, he threaded his fingers through her softly glowing hair and smoothed it back. “From the very beginning, you couldn’t leave me alone.”
Her expression soured. “I think it was reciprocal.”
He chuckled. “I think you’re right.”
Bel didn’t manage that pinched look for long. Warmth shone from her—more than magic. It made his heart pound. “Everything feels so different now,” she murmured, leaning into his touch.
“Everything finally feels like it should.” Lowering his head, he sought out her lips again, coaxed them open, and swept his tongue into her mouth. Bel barely hesitated before reciprocating with a fiery moan. He held her close, the heady feel of her in his arms a feast for his senses after starving for so long. Arousal built in hot, hungry leaps, and he groaned, the taste of her as delectable and enthralling as her scent. She melted into him, their embrace an effortless give-and-take now, and he only had one coherent thought. Bel’s searing kisses had just become his new addiction. He’d drink them down for life, die happy, and then do it all over again in the Underworld.
“I see things are progressing in Atlantis,” a dry voice suddenly announced, startling them apart.