We kissed like that for what felt like hours, or maybe it was minutes. Time had no meaning right now. Nothing had meaning but him and me and our bodies pressed together. We touched and explored and tasted until my lips were swollen, and I thought my body might explode from need.
“Penn,” I murmured against his lips, unentangling my fingers from his hair. “Please.”
It was all I could manage right now, but he understood.
He sat up, and I sat up with him, tugging my tunic over my head. He helped me when it got stuck, and we both laughed until the top half of my body was fully exposed. The laughter died on Penn’s lips as he drank me in, and his eyes darkened.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, my Lilypad.”
His. I was his. I touched my hair self-consciously.
“Don’t.” He caught my hand before I could tug on the short strands.
“It’s not...” I paused. “I used tobe—” I shook my head. “Orhavelonger hair.”
He let out a laugh. “You’re sitting half-naked in front of me, and your hair is what you’re self-conscious about?”
I gave him a look. “Should I be self-conscious about something else?”
He grabbed me, and in one movement had me pinned against the bed. “No,” he said, voice rough. “I meant what I said. You’re so fucking beautiful.” He reached down and pinched a strand between his fingers, letting the hair run through them. “I don’t know what you looked like with longer hair. I’d only ever seen you from afar.”
I tucked that piece of information away. We’d talk about that another day.
“But I can tell you that it doesn’t matter what hair you have. When I first laid eyes on you in that prison cell, your hair a rat’s nest”—I shoved him, and he shot me a wicked grin and kissed my nose—“I still thought you were the most beautiful godsdamned woman I’d ever seen.”
I swatted at him. “No you did not.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, trailing a finger down my collarbone, eliciting a shudder from me.
“What if I am?”
“Then I’m just going to have to work hard to convince you.”
I raised my chin. “I told you that you were going to have to prove yourself.”
He dipped his head down, lips hovering over my breasts. “Well, then I better get to it.”
He took a nipple in his mouth, and I let out a gasp. His tongue circled it, the rasp of it against my skin making me arch.
“Enough proof?” he whispered into me.
“I think I’m going to need more,” I said, breathless.
“I was hoping you’d say that.” His mouth continued down my stomach, pressing featherlight kisses until he came to my trousers. His deft fingers worked them open and he tugged them down, my undergarments along with them, his lips touching every inch of my skin as he went torturously slow. I squirmed under him, but he never increased his speed, and finally, he pulled my trousers and undergarments over my feet and threw them to the floor.
“Is that enough proof?” He smiled up at me from the end of the bed.
“Not even close.”
He straightened, his hard length showing through his pants. I stared and swallowed.
He tsked. “Just what am I going to do to show you how serious I am?”
“I can think of a few more things.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh?”
I sat up, now fully naked before him, and his eyes raked over me. He drank me in like I, indeed, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
