FIFTEEN #2
Then, just to push him a little further.
“You’ve trained me well.”
He lets out a low, sinful laugh, eyes flashing feral. “I might have to remove it with my teeth.”
His hand continues upward until it settles at my hip. His thumb strokes over the curve of bone, savoring the feel of me beneath his hands.
Desire coils between my thighs and I bite my lower lip.
“I didn’t know you were so wicked,” he murmurs, dark amusement thickening his voice.
His teeth gently drag against the sensitive pulse at my throat, and I exhale shakily against his shoulder. Gods—I want more.
I feel his arousal pressing against me.
He rolls his hips. Gentle.
A question.
“What about the ball?” Thane drawls, lips brushing my ear. One hand stays firm against the small of my back while the other glides up my side with maddening patience.
His hand hovers just beneath my breast, and I inhale sharply as my nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my dress. His fingertips lightly brush the curve, featherlight, and my breathing turns shallow, ragged.
I smile, entirely unashamed. “I never wanted to go to the ball, remember?”
My tone mirrors his: teasing, dry, full of mischief. Then I lean in and drag the tip of my tongue along the side of his neck.
The boldness surprises even me.
But it feels right.
Thane has awakened a part of me I didn’t know existed. Around him, I don’t just want to be near him—I need to touch him, feel him, pull him impossibly closer.
I arch my back, pressing closer to the hand hovering just above my breast. Finally . . . finally he covers it with his palm.
Heat flashes through me so sharply it steals my breath. My eyes flutter shut as my head tilts back.
His hand moves slowly against my breast while his mouth finds my throat again—kissing, sucking, lingering just long enough to make my pulse jump wildly beneath his lips.
I roll my hips against his reflexively.
The rigid evidence of his want presses back immediately.
Thane pulls away just enough to look at me, hunger burning openly across his face.
“But all those people came to see you, Spiritborn.” His voice drips with wicked amusement. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint them.”
Then he grips my jaw gently, tilting my head up before sealing his mouth over mine. The kiss turns deeper. Needier. Tongues sliding together as months of tension unravel all at once.
A collision of fire and want.
When he finally pulls back, he catches my lower lip between his teeth before releasing it. His mouth drifts back to my neck.
“You smell incredible,” he murmurs against my skin. “Like citrus and wildflowers. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I’ve wanted you for days,” I whisper against his ear.
Thane groans. “I know.”
I laugh softly against his neck, remembering how just watching him walk that morning after meeting his father had made my knees weak.
Thane pulls back just enough to look at me, his breathing rough.
“Are you sure?” The restraint in his voice is fraying fast. “Because I don’t think I can hold back much longer.”
But his body betrays him anyway. He rolls his hips against mine again—harder this time. A silent plea. A question he already knows the answer to.
My hand glides down the front of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath the fabric.
His chest rises and falls with the same desperate need burning through me.
I drag my hand lower, savoring the way his body tenses beneath my touch, until I finally press my palm against him through the fabric of his trousers.
“Does that answer your question?” I murmur, my voice low and daring.
Thane growls, and drags his hand along the inside of my leg, still hooked over his hip. His fingers find the slick heat waiting for him.
He hums in low satisfaction.
“Fuuuck . . . you’re dripping,” he murmurs.
He presses his forehead to mine, breathing me in, his thumb teasing just lightly enough against my inner thigh to make me shudder.
“All this for me, Amara, darling?”
The way he looks at me—something holy, something wild, something that could bring him to his knees.
And he’d thank me for it.
I spread my thighs wider, never breaking his gaze.
His nostrils flare, his gaze dropping to the place between my legs—where the air kisses over my slick, aching center.
I see it—the way his control frays.
And it’s all because of me.
“Take it, Thane,” I say, every word a command wrapped in velvet. “It’s all for you. Only you.”
A rough sound tears from him.
Then his mouth is on my neck again, feasting on me, biting and sucking until I’m gasping. I cling to him instinctively, my fingers twisting into the fabric at his shoulders as the bond pulses wildly between us.
His fingers slip between my thighs to that sensitive spot, pressing and circling, slow and devastating. His body shudders against mine.
“Break me,” he whispers roughly against my throat. “And I’d still crawl back to you.”
His hand slides to my lower back, and just like that, the pressure between my thighs deepens. When I think I can’t take another second of his fingers teasing me, he thrusts two inside, stretching me around him with a sudden, devastating fullness.
I gasp, my body clenching around him, and before I can stop myself, I nip at his ear, drawing a low growl from deep in his chest.
He curls his fingers inside me, dragging against something deep and shattering—and I slap my hand against my mouth to stifle the scream tearing up my throat. Stars explode behind my eyes. The pleasure builds, blinding and unstoppable, every breath slipping further from my control.
“That’s it, love,” he breathes into my neck, his voice rough as gravel, hot as smoke, every word burning through me. “I’ll touch you like this until you can’t remember your own name. Until you’re screaming mine.”
My body jerks against him, overwhelmed by the shockwave of need that tears through me. I bury my face in his shoulder, desperate to muffle the whimper clawing up my throat.
“Ahem.”
A low, purposeful throat-clearing—subtle, but enough to get attention.
I freeze.
Thane moves instantly.
His fingers slip away from me, my leg dropping from his hip as the folds of my gown slide down in one smooth, desperate motion. He shifts, shielding me with his body, his back facing whoever just caught us.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast.
He glances over his shoulder as I peek around him.
There, leaning casually against the stone archway, stands Rowena—grinning like the gods themselves just handed her blackmail.
Shit.
“Hello, little brother.”
Her voice sings with amusement.
“Fucking hell, Rowena!” Thane snaps over his shoulder, voice rough with still-fraying need.
I want to disappear.
Melt into the floor.
Die.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Rowena says smugly, arms crossed as she leans further into the archway. “But this is a ball for the Spiritborn, you know. People are expecting to actually see her.”
Her grin widens.
“You can’t keep her all to yourself . . . at least not for a few more hours,” she says slyly.
Thane drops his forehead onto my shoulder with a groan, taking a ragged breath.
“I hear you,” he grits out. “Can you go away now?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see much. I just got here,” Rowena says with exaggerated innocence. Then, grinning like a wolf who just found fresh meat, she adds, ”Do you need a minute . . . to collect yourselves?”
“Fuck off. Give us a few minutes.”
Laughing, Rowena pivots on her heel and saunters back inside, still chuckling to herself.
Thane lifts his head and looks at me sheepishly, his cheeks flushed, his hair mussed beyond saving.
I meet his gaze.
And then lose it.
Laughter explodes out of me. Within seconds, I’m doubled over, clutching my sides, struggling to breathe.
“Amara, this is not funny!” Thane hisses, gesturing sharply to the very obvious problem straining against his pants. “I’m very uncomfortable right now.”
Which only makes it worse.
I wheeze between fits of laughter, “You think I’m any less unsettled?”
“Amara!” he groans.
But then—Thane starts laughing too.
A deep, glorious laugh rumbles out of him, low and rich, echoing through the alcove and pulling another helpless laugh from me. Moments later, we’re both doubled over in our finery, breathless and completely losing our composure.
It feels like forever before it finally fades—first into chuckles, then to lingering, giddy smiles.
I straighten, still trying to catch my breath, and find his eyes. Without thinking, I step closer, cup his face in both hands, and press a kiss to his lips, a soft, lingering promise.
“I love you.”
Thane smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I love you too.”
Then he glances down with a grimace.
“I’m going to need a few minutes.” A beat. “Maybe don’t touch me for a while.”
And just like that, the laughter bubbles up again, bright and impossible to stop.
About ten minutes later, after our breathing has steadied and the haze between us has finally begun to clear, Thane presses one last lingering kiss to my forehead before taking my hand.
Tucked behind a carved screen at the back of the alcove, a small retiring room waits, no larger than a dressing chamber.
A polished basin of fresh water sits atop a marble stand beside neatly folded linen towels, while a vanity holds powders, perfumes, hairpins, and a small pot of the lip color Elira had painstakingly painted onto my mouth earlier that evening.
I smooth the wrinkles from my gown, tame my hopelessly disheveled hair as best I can, and carefully restore the color to my lips. Thane straightens his tunic, runs a hand through his hair, and somehow looks even more devastating than before.
Together, we step back into the ballroom.
A few eyes flick toward us—curious, amused—but thankfully, no one seems entirely certain what kept us out on the balcony so long.