Chapter 20 #3
She dragged her hands up his back, her fingers exploring every inch of the hard planes and muscles along his body.
She deepened the kiss, a soft moan escaping from her.
She needed air, but she didn’t want to breathe in anything but him.
She didn’t want to forget the feel of his hands caressing her, erupting heat all over her, and breaking the walls of her heart.
Her head tipped back and Nikator trailed kisses down the column of her throat while she gulped in air.
Her body trembled and she hooked her hands on his shoulders.
She needed him more than she needed anything else.
She wanted to forget everything in these moments.
She wanted to lose herself in him. She wanted … him, completely.
She didn’t care that they were enemies. She didn’t care that he could kill her if he wanted to, that they were bound together by a cursed marriage spell, that they were supposed to hate each other. None of that mattered.
Nikator broke the kiss and her eyes snapped open to find him peering down at her with a feral look on his face; his eyes burned like blue flames.
“Say my name,” he whispered.
“Nikator.”
He grasped the sides of her face and studied her for a few moments, the longing clear, and Biyu waited with bated breath for his lips to find hers again. His thumb brushed over her swollen upper lip, and desire flared in her. “Damn it. You’re so beautiful.”
Her face flushed and he kissed her again.
This time, gentler. Like he wanted to take his time to savor her.
And she did too; she wanted even more of him, but she didn’t know how to ask for that.
She wasn’t even sure she could handle that right now, either, because her feelings were nearly bursting at the seams of her vessel.
He tasted sweet, like berries bursting in her mouth. The scent of leather, ocean breeze, and spiced vanilla filled her senses. She trailed her hands up his face, his warm skin rough with stubble, and dug her fingers into his hair.
She didn’t know what was happening to her, but she was unraveling. Messy, uncertain, but needy. She thought first kisses were supposed to be sweet and short. Not like this. Not long, passionate, with tongue and hot touches and grinding bodies.
It was like they both knew this was forbidden; she was an imprisoned princess with a sentence hanging over her head, and he was her executioner, her guard, the man who would kill her the first chance she proved herself to be treasonous.
The man who had ruined her life. The man who consumed her every thought.
They both seemed to realize that they wouldn’t be able to do this again, and a frenzy seemed to take over as they ravenously kissed.
“Say my name,” she whispered when they pulled back to breathe.
“Prin—”
“No.” She took his face in her hands. “Not my title. My name.”
His lips twisted into a grin. “Biyu.”
She was used to him calling her Princess Biyu, Princess this, Princess that. But never just her name, and hearing it out loud—something as simple as being called her name—sent a shudder of excitement racing through her.
She brought her mouth to his and kissed him again, desperately, because she knew this was wrong and that they would always be enemies, but she wanted to be close to him in that moment.
She wanted to memorize the way his arms felt around her, the softness of his lips, the feel of her fingers running through his silken hair.
She needed to have this, because when she succeeded in her plan, there was no way she could do this again.
A drizzle of rain stopped their fervor. Thunder boomed and the sky lit with spidery lightning lines against the grayish clouds.
She hadn’t even realized the change of weather—though the extreme humidity should have given it away.
In mere minutes, the rain came down on them hard; her hair plastered over her face and neck and her clothes stuck to her body like a second skin.
Nikator tipped his head back to stare at the sky and another crackle sounded in the distance. “We should go inside.”
“I—” The protest died on her lips. Why had she almost said she didn’t want to leave? That she didn’t want to stop kissing him? The almost-admission made her face flush with embarrassment. She could still taste him, though now there was a hint of rain mingled with it.
They both remained there for a moment longer, looking at one another.
The pull between them had definitely changed; it was almost magnetic, this feeling between them.
Like she wanted to be closer to him, to be in his arms again, and feel his lips against hers.
And yet now that they were apart, with the rain showering on them and the cooling temperature, fear needled in her chest, threading doubts in and out of her heart.
Nikator was her enemy.
What was she thinking, kissing him like that?
She couldn’t fall for this strange, electric, heated pull they had toward one another. She admitted that he was beautiful, powerful, lethal—and everything she physically wanted—but they were enemies.
She pounded that into her mind. Even as he stared at her like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss her again, or slam his blade through her.
He, too, seemed to be regretting what he’d done. She could see it in his face. The horror in his eyes. The confusion.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Of course he would regret kissing her.
“Let’s … let’s go.” Her voice cracked as she hurried around him and to the bench where her clothes were.
She grabbed them and embraced them tightly, as if the wet dress put a significant barrier between them.
She could feel him staring at her, but she kept her head low and headed for the exit; he sighed and followed behind her.
She was stupid to kiss him.
And even more stupid to enjoy it.