I arch into him, wanting more. He complies by pulling my bodice down enough to free my breast, and in one swift move, he leans down, capturing my nipple between his lips. I hiss in a quick breath at the shock of wet warmth. He suckles gently, his tongue flicking and teasing until my body aches with need.
His other hand snakes down, fingers slipping under the edge of my gown. I gasp as he grazes the sensitive skin on my inner thigh, each stroke raising the heat within me.
This must be what flying feels like. It’s the freest I have ever felt, like I can just be Annora right now. I don’t have to hide. Don’t have to pretend.
His hand drifts higher until he touches me between my legs, fingertips lightly grazing over my silk undergarments.
What would he do if I pulled them off? The thought sends heat rushing to my cheeks, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about it and imagining him touching me without any barrier.
He must sense my thoughts and answers with a pressure that makes me gasp and jerk my hips toward him. His other hand releases my breast to clasp the back of my neck and draws me in for another kiss. I taste the tang of ale on his lips and groan into his mouth.
He slips his hand beneath my undergarments and touches me there until I can hardly breathe for the pleasure it brings me.
After a moment, he pulls away from our heated kiss and studies my face in the dim light. “Is this what you want?”
His fingers remain between my legs, making it hard for me to think, let alone respond.
“Yes,” I whisper and rub myself against his unmoving hand.
“I want you to say it, Annora,” he commands with a voice so steady, so calm, it belies the storm raging in his gaze.
A strange mixture of embarrassment and bravado flares within me. “Touch me, Jasce.”
With a groan, Jasce crushes his lips against mine once more, while his hand resumes its previous motion. The sensation is too much, too intense. A sharp pang of need throbs in my core, and I press myself against his hand even further.
“Please,” I manage to breathe out between kisses.
His thumb moves in slow circles, the friction sending shockwaves through me. My legs tremble, and I cling to him for support. His touch is relentless, pushing me closer to the precipice.
Oh, how I want it, need it.
His other hand moves down my body, tracing a path over my trembling stomach and down to the edge of my cotehardie. His fingers grip the fabric, pulling it up bit by bit until they can join his other hand in its exploration. The room blurs as he slips a finger inside me, and another wave of pleasure washes over me at the deliberate intrusion.
He kisses me again, then, a hard, possessive kiss that brings me closer and closer to my release. Then, he does something entirely unexpected, he slides another finger inside me. I let out a loud moan, reveling in the delicious stretch.
His thumb continues to circle and tease me, sending shocks of pleasure through every nerve ending in my body. My breath becomes ragged as I surrender fully to his touch.
A creak from above rattles through me, and I freeze. When the sound comes again, I gasp, and Jasce releases me and helps me straighten my clothes.
Panic burns through me like a wildfire as I step back, trying to put space between us even though every fiber of my being screams to cling to him.
My skin tingles where his fingers touched me, and I crave more. But the fear of being discovered overpowers my desire, and I force myself to maintain the distance, even as my body trembles with longing.
“Go,” I whisper frantically. “There’s a passage behind those barrels. It leads to the orchard.”
With a curt nod, Jasce moves toward the hidden escape. He glances back, his eyes locking with mine in a fleeting moment of connection, before disappearing behind the barrels.
Quickly, I slip my veil back on and try to smooth my hair as footsteps echo on the cellar stairs.
I grab a jar of wine from a nearby shelf as an excuse for being here.
Cook’s voice calls down to me. “Annora? What are you doing down here in the dark?”
“Just fetching some wine,” I call back up with as much steadiness as I can muster.
Cook clucks her tongue as she stops at the bottom of the stairs. “You should’ve asked one of the servants to come down for you.”
“I needed some air,” I say. “The cellar is cool and quiet.”
