“I don’t snore either.”
“You absolutely do.” I poke his chest. “Like a bear in hibernation.”
He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss to my knuckles. “I hate that you’re alone in Bakva.”
“I’m not completely alone. I have Tahira and Em—” I stop short, not wanting to burden him with my worries. “Tell me more about Will. Is he still carrying around those wooden warriors you made him?”
“Everywhere.” Pride colors his voice as he talks about his younger brother. “He makes up stories about their adventures.”
“He has such a keen imagination,” I say as I trace the line of Jasce’s jaw. “Have you been sketching?”
“Some. Though lately...” He pulls me closer, his warmth seeping into my bones. “Lately, I find myself drawing you over and over. As if putting you on parchment will somehow bring you back to me.”
I press my face into his neck, breathing in that familiar scent of leather, smoke, and cherry wood. “Sometimes I think about that first night when you stepped into your bedchamber. You were terrifying. All fierce scowls and demands.”
“And now?”
“Now I know better.” I lift my head to meet his gaze. “You’re just a big softie who makes wooden toys for his little brother.”
“Don’t let that get around.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
“Oh yes, the fearsome chieftain who spends his evenings sketching and playing with children.”
He tugs gently on my hair. “Only certain children.”
“Do you know what I remember most about those early days?” I don’t bother to wait for his response before adding, “That look you always gave me.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re trying not to smile but failing miserably. Like right now.”
“Only you would notice something like that.”
“I notice everything about you. The way your eyes get lighter when you’re happy. How you run your hand through your hair when you’re frustrated. The little furrow between your brows when you’re reading reports.”
“And here I thought I was being subtle.”
“Never.” I smile. “You’re about as subtle as a thunderstorm.”
“Your hands are like leather.”I poke at a particularly thick callus. “Do you punch walls for fun?”
His laugh rumbles through his chest as I trace the rough patches on his palm.
“Those calluses are from training. Though, I’ve been known to punch a wall or two.”
“Only two?”
“Three, but who’s counting?” His tone shifts, turning harder. “Being away from you makes me want to punch more than walls.”
“How much do you need me?” I tease.
“More than I need my next breath.”
“Show me,” I say as I shift in his arms. “Show me how much you need me.”
In a flash, he stands, spins us, and pushes me up against the crystal wall. My heart races as his hands slide up my thighs,bunching my gown as he goes. His fingers graze the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, and I let out a sharp exhale.
Slowly, his fingers inch higher and higher until they brush against my undergarments. I bite my lower lip as he tugs them down.
