~ 17 ~
SAbrI
The water is barely lukewarm compared to the fire racing through my veins. Anya is… she’s… I can’t wrap my mind around it.
When she revealed her face in the tunnel and I saw the ghost that has haunted my nightmares for ten years, this is the last place I would’ve thought we’d end up. It’s extremely disorientating and yet, somehow—I don’t want to stop.
Maybe because it feels good. Anya’s touch is reassuring and investigative in equal parts, tracing achingly soft trails on my skin beneath the water. I find myself leaning in to it—drawn to her, like I always am.
When she pulls back, dark eyes fluttering open and lips still parted, I have to keep myself still. Every instinct in my body is pushing forward, wanting more. It takes a great deal of self control to hold myself back.
“What’s wrong?” Anya’s breathing is labored. Up to now, this has usually been a good thing for me. Now it feels significantly more instigative.
How inappropriate of me to think this way!
“We… you shouldn’t touch me like this,” I say, and it’s embarrassing to hear the state of my own voice. I’m not too much better off than Anya is. “We’re not kids anymore—we can’t just do things carelessly.” I blink, lowering my eyes. “It might give off the wrong idea.”
“Wrong?” Anya laughs breathlessly. “How could it be wrong? I don’t know about you, Sab, but I think I’m making my intentions very clear. I want this.”
Her words have me careening. Because she’s right—no matter how inappropriate kissing an enemy of the crown may be in the eyes of the court or the council—it doesn’t feel wrong at all.
Anya’s lips are flushed with such a beautiful red. There’s a brush of pink across her cheeks too and her eyelashes are heavy with droplets.
“Like what you see?” Anya’s words are a teasing breath of warm air that I can almost taste. “Come and take it.”
It’s so cocky that for one fleeting moment, we’re children again. This is a far cry from how we usually clash—with lips rather than fists or harsh words—yet the dynamic is familiar. Because despite everything, this is Anya. Stronger, prettier, and more toughened by the world, but still Anya.
Maybe she’s right , I think as I lean forward again. How could it be a bad thing when it’s just us?
Pleasure clouds my mind. It’s hard to think when her fingers are rubbing over my hip bones in ways that have me jerking into her touch. Careful thought and strategy have never been my strength to begin with—when faced with a challenge, it’s better to take the opportunity and act.
So when Anya opens her mouth to say something snarky, this time, I beat her to it. I reach forward, clasp her chin in my hands, and pull our lips back together.
The low noise she makes as she pushes forward might be the best thing I’ve ever heard. I want to hear it again.
Anya shifts slightly, and I let her sit up without breaking our kiss. As soon as she stills, I press her back against the rocky wall of the pool. Her hands tangle in my hair and use the new grip to pull me closer.
I brace one hand on the rocks—crushing Anya might have seemed like a viable solution a few minutes ago, but I don’t want to risk ruining this surprising new development. Besides, this is turning out to be a much more efficient way of keeping that mouth in check.
It makes me wonder what else I could do to her.
My other hand finds Anya’s hip. The skin is warm, but not entirely smooth. As she gasps against my mouth, I trace along the rough edges of one of her scars.
She has so many of them.
The scars are a tangible witness to what she said earlier—she’s been through a lot during our time apart. Yet against all odds, here we are together again; like we should be. The world might be a mess, but right here and now, things haven’t felt this right in ten years.
I want to know this Anya in ways I had never considered before. With her pressed so nicely against me, making it hard to tell where I stop and she begins, it seems I have a good place to start.
Anya’s hand untangles from my hair and drifts down over my shoulder to push lightly against my chest. I ignore it for a few moments, savoring the wet slide of our lips together, but the push becomes more insistent.
I ease back, letting Anya take in more air.
“Damn,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling rapidly. There’s a gorgeous flush spreading across her body. I wonder how far I can make it go. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager.”
I resist the urge to pout. Remind me who started this? “If you don’t like it or changed your mind—”
“No!” she cuts in. The hand in my hair grips tighter. It causes a jolt of sensation that probably ought to be painful, but just excites me further. “I just didn’t expect it from our suitorless princess. Where’d you learn how to do this? Don’t you dare say your books.”
The noise that escapes me isn’t pleased.
“Hey, hey.” Anya soothes quickly, although I can see the smirk. “It’s good—I like it. Just more than I expected from you.”
“I can’t say the same; you’re as difficult as expected,” I add back, resisting the urge to cross my arms. I don’t want to pull away from Anya for fear that it might end whatever this is. “And just as naughty.”
Anya laughs, tipping her head back to rest on the stone as she watches me. “I’ll have you know I’m on my best behavior.”
I press my teeth into my lower lip. It’s tingling from our kisses before. “You don’t have to be.”
“Oh?” Anya’s touch trails down, drifting over my breast. Her fingers curve until the flats of her nails tease over my nipples. The bud hardens immediately at her touch. I hold back a groan of pleasure.
Anya’s smile is full of sinful promise. “Is that so?”
I’m clenching between my legs.
Yes.