42. Riggs #2
A dark cloud hung over his head realizing he should not continue any further with her. She’s betrothed. She’s not in control—she’s not herself.
What am I thinking?
Esemeray pouted. “Please.” She pressed a feral kiss on his jawline. “I want you.” She lowered her mouth, pressing a consuming kiss to his neck. “I’ve never wanted anyone before…not like this.”
Tingles shot down his spine. Riggs cleared his throat. “You deserve more.”
She pulled back, her features turning weary as if the magic was wearing off. “I know what I want.”
As much as he wanted to feel her, he could not give her what she wanted. Not tonight. And as soon as he arrived back home, he would have a talk with Eddie about the damn soup—that old bastard.
But it was Riggs' fault for not reading the jar. Besides that, Esemeray deserved more than a body of water. Even if the view was breathtaking, Esemeray deserved a bed, a grand one, with flowers sprinkled along the comforter from every godsdamned flower in a meadow field.
Her eyes fell to the waters, and Riggs reached for her chin, lifting her to face him. “Esemeray, you must understand that you deserve more than what I can offer.”
She refused to meet his eyes.
“Esemeray, look at me,” Riggs commanded, his stomach sinking.
Carefully, she met his gaze and blurted, “I have never wanted anyone so badly before. I’ve never wanted any man, until now, and you still refuse me? How undesirable must I truly be… Mother was right?—”
Riggs seethed. “Your mother was wrong. Your mother—” Your mother can perish while her flesh is skinned from the God of Death himself.
Any more talk of her mother and he’d travel back to Dagon and slap her himself.
He’d give the king a real reason to take his head.
He took a calming breath, collecting his thoughts.
“Then what is wrong with me?” Esemeray rasped.
“Nothing.”
“Then why don’t you want me?”
“You should be married,” Riggs bit out. “Something I can’t give you.”
“Marriage doesn’t define love.” Her voice was a shaky whisper.
His words came out like vomit. “What of your betrothed? What about him?” He held his breath, preparing for her response.
“I am not marrying that man-child.” Riggs' eyes widened. “He is a boy that wanted my sister. Not me. Never me. He could drown and rot in hell for all I care.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His breathing increased.
“I—” Her cheeks fell. “Because it did not matter.”
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
She shook her head. “I’d rather not think of him.” She wrapped her arms around herself, staring out to the expanse. “Peter is a terrible person.”
Peter. Riggs' hands curled into fists. “What did he do to you?”
“How long have you known?” she said, ignoring his question, still refusing to look at him.
“Since the night you left,” Riggs explained. “Killian told me.” Asking again, Riggs' face turned red, “What did he do to you?”
This time she faced him, her cheeks drooping. “I’d rather not talk about him.”
“Esemeray,” Riggs breathed, his arousal dimming. He closed his eyes, accepting her answer. He wouldn’t push it. He gazed far into the cave with a tight jaw. “We should get to bed.” He extended his hand, forcing a smile.
“Oh,” she blurted, talking a million miles per second, “I was never going to marry him, Riggs. How could I? When all I want and think about is you.” Breathing heavy, her voice lowered, “I never loved him. I didn’t—I?—”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Riggs cracked a smile, his ire dissipating. “I want you too.”
Slowly she unfolded her arms, showing him all of her. “Then have me.”
He cleared his throat, his body flushing. He needed to make her understand why he simply could not. He reached for her hands, caressing her knuckles. “I want to,” he reassured, “I want to so fucking bad.”
“Riggs,” she pleaded, “please… Just this once.”
Fuck.
He hated it when women begged. It was his fucking weakness. And the way her hair dripped down her chest had him burning for her even more. Brushing his hands up her shoulders, he squeezed her arms, fighting the urge to bury himself deep inside of her.
“Soon,” he whispered, “when the time is right.”
She leaned forward, brushing her index finger across his lips so light and gentle, it felt like a feather. “Please.”
His aching cock throbbed.
Fuck.
“I cannot, princess.” His throat worked, fighting against every fiber of his being to claim her completely. He closed his eyes, heart pounding. “Not tonight.”
When she didn’t say anything, Riggs cracked an eye open, bracing himself for her response.
A slight, forgiving smile danced on Esemeray’s lips. She spread her legs further apart, her gleaming sex on full display beneath the waters. “Do that thing with your tongue, and I will forgive you.”
Riggs grinned, giving her no time before he lifted her onto the edge of the stone.
Her heavy eyes followed him, as he slid his hands along her thighs and hovered his mouth over her sex.
This, I can do. He flicked his gaze toward her, his voice rough.
“Eyes on me, princess.” His mouth watered with anticipation.
She nodded, her eyes flickering with a longing.
“Good girl.” He slid his tongue against her warm, slick center, focusing all his attention on the spot where she needed him the most. Slowly, he slid lower, the tip of his tongue playing at her entrance.
His eyes rolled back from the flavor, and gods help him, the taste of her was maddening and addicting, driving him over the edge with each swipe of his tongue.
He slid back up and swiveled faster, deeper, observing her eyes flutter shut. Her jaw went slack, those beautiful lips parting as she let out a moan sounding like an angel specifically sent down to torment him.
“Riggs, don’t stop,” she whimpered, legs shaking.
Riggs wasn’t stopping—wouldn’t—not until she shattered, not until she begged him to.
A deep throat cleared behind them.
Esemeray slammed her legs around him.
Riggs gripped her thighs and pried himself out of her hold, his heart thundering as he met Killian’s lethal stare across the canyon.
Fuck.