Chapter Twenty
Only once had Pax been held captive in his many long years as a paladin. A band of trolls had caught him unawares and, as it was winter and they were far from home, decided they would rather eat him for dinner than hold him for ransom.
Reasonable.
They bound his hands together, then his ankles, and hung him by both from a sturdy oak branch.
While they built up the fire over which they would hang and roast him, Pax underwent an excruciating exercise in patience as he twisted his wrists back and forth, ever so slowly, so the trolls wouldn’t know what he was up to.
The threat of imminent death combined with the need for stealth was reminiscent of the torture Pax now underwent sitting next to Josie.
Her attention was rapt on the unfolding scenes of the sirens’ home world, the majestic waves of indigo and burgundy smashing midair to create a lilac-colored sea-foam.
Meanwhile, all Pax could focus on was the half inch of space between them on the couch, how the heat from Josie’s body crept like vines to caress his own, how, if he moved achingly slow, he could curve his arm along the back of the couch in such a way that her neck would rest against his elbow.
The buzzing sensation in his bones from sitting close but unable to touch her skin caused his heart to race and his fingertips itch to brush against her.
He knew from before that Josie was soft and smelled like cherries and sugar, her kisses were warm and her touch was sure, but now, now Pax wanted to see her.
She wore a black cotton shirt with a neckline barely reaching the top of her cleavage and loose pants that went to her ankles.
He stared at her shoulders as if the heat from his gaze could melt the cloth away and reveal the line of her clavicle, that magical place in a woman’s body where grace and gravity come together.
Like the time he was powerless to use his strength against the trolls, Pax was unable to dominate Josie in any way physically. That wouldn’t be fair. He wanted her to turn to him, to touch him first, to be in control.
While he waited, watching her expression as she soaked in the beauty of another world, his breath stuttered, and his heart raced as though he were waiting to be roasted over a troll fire.
Should he say something?
What could he say?
Enough of the ocean, can I see you naked?
Even with such limited experience with romance as Pax had, he knew this was not an appropriate conversation starter.
So he simmered and hardened and ached in the most horribly delicious state of banked desire until the screen dimmed and Josie turned to meet his gaze.
“That was amazing,” she said quietly. “Thank you for showing this to me. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”
“No,” he said, slightly stupid from the buzzing and the banking and everything in between. “Never.”
When she smiled, he lost his mind a little. How could one not after such torture?
“Can I kiss you again, Josie?” Pax asked.
When she tilted her head to consider his offer, her cheek brushed the inside of his forearm, and it had the same effect as a blow to his head. He stopped breathing and every single inch of him from his toes to his eyebrows thickened in need.
Not simply a sexual need, although there was enough lust in the air to choke them both. Need for the sort of touch that came accidentally when you sat next to a person who trusted you, who let their bare skin graze yours without jumping back, who sidled into your lap and oh…
Oh.
Yes.
Josie slid one thigh over both his and straddled him. The V between her legs pressed against his half-hardened cock and Pax had the fleeting worry if she touched him there, he might explode.
Simply because he’d never heard of anyone exploding from lust didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He’d never heard of a world without magic and yet here they were.
“Can I touch you first?” she asked.
“Yes,” he squeaked. Sheer horror at the sound he’d made was forgotten in the wake of an even more powerful shudder of pleasure when Josie followed through on her request. Her fingertips traced the features of his face from his brow to his lips, then skimmed along the tops of his shoulders.
With a tilt of her head, Josie’s hands stopped moving at the hem of Pax’s shirt and he nodded permission to the unspoken question.
Frustratingly slowly, Josie unbuttoned the black collared shirt he’d worn in hopes of impressing her.
Josie’s hands were small, fingers thin and capable as they freed each pearl-colored button.
When she’d finished, Josie pulled the shirt from his torso and paused again with her hands curled under the hem of his tight gray undershirt.
“You wear a lot of clothes,” she teased—at least, he hoped she was teasing and not complaining.
“Say the word and I will never wear another stitch again,” Pax vowed solemnly.
When she tilted her head back and let loose a quiet laugh, he could not help but to rise and sweep her into his arms.
“I made a joke,” he informed her as he walked them from the living room and into the small bedroom at the other end of the hallway.
“You did,” Josie said. “It was a most excellent joke. Top tier.”
Pausing on the threshold, he asked permission to enter, and Josie consented with a nod.
Pax couldn’t rid himself of his proud smile even after he settled Josie atop his bed and pulled the T-shirt off, toed off his boots, and unbuckled his belt.
The smile widened at the rapt expression on Josie’s face, the way she scrambled up on her knees and reached out to help him with the belt, and the quiet hum of appreciation she made when his pants fell to the floor.
The smile remained when Pax joined her on the bed and, with her permission, slid her black shirt off to reveal the body beneath.
Under the smell of whatever lavender soap she used to clean her skin was Josie’s true scent.
Salt and earth, something sharp, like lemon or antiseptic—nothing unfamiliar but enigmatic all the same.
Pax breathed it in and held it in his lungs, letting it suffuse his blood while she lifted her hips so he could take off her pants, leaving on her undergarments.
On the exhale his lips traveled the length of her, spreading kisses to every soft, rounded part of her that called to him.
“May I?” he asked when he reached the bottom of her brassiere.
Josie’s laughter was soft and easy when Pax struggled to figure out how to untangle her from the contraption, the laces to which he’d been accustomed had been traded in for hooks and eyes. Not very romantic, if you asked him.
His disappointment was forgotten in the rush of appreciation that took his words away when Josie set her brassiere aside.
“How are you…?”
He was going to ask how she could be real, this woman resting next to him, biting him with tiny kisses, lips pulled over teeth, stroking her delicate fingers along the dips and hollows of his musculature.
Redolent of summer, she was formed of curves and lines and everything beautiful the universe had to offer, and more besides.
Leaving off that question, leaving off any speech requiring higher-brain functioning, Pax turned instead to exploration.
His lips and tongue and fingers traversed a continent of woman, discovering secret territories of salty and sweet.
There was the soft slope of her belly, the berried peaks of her breasts, and the plunging line of her neck.
All these places opened to him with a “please” and a “yes, there” and an “oh my God.”
The entire time, his own body hummed with need, but Pax did not, could not, rush his exploration.
It was slow work to learn a woman in this way.
Slow, exacting torture that fogged his brain and hardened his cock, and turned his nervous system inside out.
His skin was so sensitive when Josie moved beneath him, a thousand fires licked his limbs, burned him up, and sent him flying into the ether.
· · ·
Pax rested on his elbows, holding himself above her while he laid searching kisses on every inch of her skin.
“This part of you here,” he whispered into her neck. “I don’t know why, but I want to taste you here.”
True to his word, Pax traced the curve between her neck and her shoulder with the tip of his tongue, pulling a response from the center of her. Josie arched her back, wanting more contact, wanting some sort of friction, and opened her legs so his hips rested between hers.
“Closer,” she said.
He obliged, but only enough to tease her.
The pressure of his erection against her folds was hampered by the cotton of his boxers and the cloth of her panties.
Josie wrapped her arm around his shoulders and gently pulled him to her, letting her palm explore the expanse of his muscled back while she ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair.
It was thick and soft, and when she made a fist and tugged it gently, Pax growled and left off the small bites on her shoulder and turned his attention to her breasts.
“So pretty,” he said before laving the pink outline of her areola. “Tastes perfect.”
He covered her nipple with his hot wet mouth, and his eyes held Josie’s captive. Clenching his teeth slightly, he bit at the same time he sucked her deep into his mouth and lightning shot down her spine.
“Closer,” she demanded, but it was more like begging and Pax gave her what she asked for. His other hand grasped her hip, and they rocked together in time with the lapping of his tongue on her breast.
Josie threw one leg over his hips and moaned at the friction.
Her panties were soaked, and she wanted to feel more of his skin, grip the muscles of his ass, ride this out into bliss, but she couldn’t speak because they were kissing again.
Grinding against each other, unable to stop and pull off the rest of their clothes, indulging in kissing that grew more intense as though they could devour each other, press so close nothing could peel them apart.
Breaking the kiss, Josie threw her head back and took a breath, pulling all the air she could into her lungs while the tension between her legs grew tighter until Pax reached between them and asked, “Can I touch you here?”
Words were beyond her, or maybe she answered something like “yes” or “now” but probably just moaned. Josie took his hand and pulled it to the hem of her panties, welcoming his touch.
All it took was one, two, three circles with his thumb and a thrust of his finger for Josie to come on his hand, letting loose a low half sigh, half moan pulled deep from her belly.
God, it felt good, but it wasn’t enough.
“More, still,” she said, then suckled his tongue and urged him on with her hips. Pax didn’t pause, he shifted his weight and worked her with the palm of his hand, slowly pushing one finger then two deep inside her, twisting them slowly.
It was her turn to ask, and she took the low grunt as the answer yes.
Quickly, she slipped her hand below the waistband of his boxers and wrapped her hand around his erection.
He was hot and thick, and the need to taste him nearly overcame her desire for completion but Pax was determined.
His fingers moved faster and as his palm made circles, faster and faster until she came again with a strangled cry and saw stars behind her eyelids.
Her skin expanded, a wave of satisfaction moving her from beneath his body to on top of him.
Josie pulled down his boxers, her hair covering her face and sweeping over his cock as she unhooked the boxers from his ankles, then settled herself back on her knees, bowing low and capturing the engorged head of him between her lips.
Whatever word it was he yelled when she licked him from root to head and back again, it wasn’t a name, so Josie paid it no mind.
Instead, she focused on the sweet tremors still coursing between her thighs and the salty taste of Pax’s skin, and reveled in the way his hands flopped out to his sides and grabbed at the sheets, as though he was holding himself back from touching her too hard or too fast.
“Your mouth,” he groaned. “Never felt anything as good.”
The praise excited her even more than his shouts and Josie rewarded him by taking as much as she could of him into her mouth until he hit the back of her throat.
“Never,” he promised her. “Never so good.”
The hitch in his voice was her only warning before his hips thrust up against her and he came into her mouth and down her throat, his hand lightly stroking her hair in contrast to the strength of his thrusts against her lips.
“So good,” he said one last time in a voice filled with reverence, in such a way Josie knew it for the truth.
“Very good,” she agreed, when she crawled back up his body to come lay herself atop his limbs and traded soft quiet kisses of wonder and delight.
Words too small for what happened, but neither of them was inclined to search for another because some words were better left unsaid unless they were meant to be spoken outside of the bed.
Instead, they lay tangled in a knot of limbs, listening to the other person breathe, and tucked words away for later, content to speak with fingers, lips, and tongues in a language both were learning together.