Like she’s finally letting down her walls for me.
And I’ll be damned if I don’t do the same.
Finally, her lips move, but instead of forming words, they press together, and then she’s pushing up onto her toes.
And she kisses me.
It feels so, so good. She’s like the first cool sip of water after a long, arduous journey, the feel of collapsing into a deep mattress after a full day of back-breaking work beneath the summer sun. I can’t get enough.
I slide my fingers from her cheeks to the back of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair as I taste her lips with my tongue. She tastes of cinnamon and vanilla, both spicy and sweet.
It’s oddly fitting for Lyra Wilder.
Our kisses are coming faster now, breaths gasped each time we break for air. She grasps the hem of my sweater in her fists and starts tugging on me, guiding me backward, out of the kitchen and into the hall that leads to my bedroom. It’s not smooth, but we laugh each time we stumble, and I steady her with my hands around her waist.
We make it into my bedroom, where I didn’t quite finish making the bed—but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.
Lyra pushes me down onto the end of the bed—or gives me the hardest shove she can muster, and I play along—then closes the door behind her. She leans back against it, breathing hard, hair mussed from where my fingers were grasping it. She bites her lip.
“Cairn,” she says softly. “I . . . I’m ready.”
My brain is muddled from the fire in her kisses, and I can hardly focus on the words that come out of her mouth. “For what?” I finally bring myself to ask.
Still biting her lip, she pushes off the door and walks slowly toward me. She comes to stand between my legs where I’m still seated on the bed, her arms wrapping around my neck. Pressing her forehead to mine, she whispers, “To feel you.” Slowly, she trails one hand down my chest, her fingertips finding my cock where it’s already straining against my thick winter trousers. “To feelallof you.”
Oh.
Oh.
I lean back, leveling her with a hard stare. “I don’t know. I don’t want to—”
“To hurt me.” She tips her head to one side. “I know.” With the hand still draped around my neck, she starts to play with the hair at my nape, drawing a rumbling sigh from me. “But we’ve got to at least try. And if it’s too much, I’ll tell you.”
Now I narrow my eyes at her. “Promise?”
Lyra laughs, and it’s more beautiful and more soothing than any piece of music I’ve yet heard. “Ipromise. So...” She gives me another little shove, guiding me back so I have to recline on my elbows on the bed. “Areyouready?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. And I tell her the truth. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for you, Lyra Wilder.”
Her eyes shimmer with mischief. “Good answer.”
Then she tugs the cord of my trousers free, grabs hold of my waistband, and guides the fabric down, giggling as I haveto lift my hips to help her. As soon as the fabric releases me, my cock springs up, the tip already glistening.
And I barely have time to draw breath before Lyra crawls onto the mattress between my thighs, grabs hold of my shaft with one hand, and draws her tongue down its hard length, holding my gaze all the while.
This fire witch will be the end of me.
But I’ll go happily into that unknown dark—as long as hers is the last face I see.
Chapter 44
Lyra
I HOLD CAIRN’S DARK GAZE as I drag my tongue along the underside of his shaft, my other hand stroking him slowly—or stroking as much as I can, given he’s easily as long as my forearm and certainly just as wide.
The thought of taking him is just as scary as it is exciting, and I don’t want to spend one more night wondering, waiting,wishing. Tonight, I’ll get him inside me if it’s the last thing I do.
Rising up, I lick around his tip, then suck what I can of his head into my mouth—as I expected the first time I saw him naked before me, I can’t widen my jaw enough to get him fully inside. I suppose stroking and licking will have to do.
