Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(91)

“You seem to need it.”

“You should be the one to need it.”

“And yet, I’m holding up just fine all things considered.”

Kellyn sighs into my neck. “You’re a rock. Steady and unbreakable.”

“And I like to stay in one place.”

He laughs, the sound tickling my skin. His hands are in my hair, his fingers running through the strands.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask. The anxiety doesn’t creep in until the words are out. I should no longer fear rejection of this nature from this man, but I do. Constantly.

“Of course. Let me get changed, and I’ll be right back.”

I use the opportunity to change myself. I place my hammers on the bedside table, within reach. I’ve never had to do this with weapons before leaving my home. But now I seem to need something sharp or blunt nearby at all times.

I empty my pockets, thinking to tuck the herbs into a drawer out of sight.

But as I stare at them and think about Kellyn coming in for the night, I carefully pop a dried leaf into my mouth.

The taste is bitter, meant to be diluted with tea. But I’m not about to brew something.

I swallow quickly.

And then my face feels inflamed.

Which is utterly ridiculous. It’s not like anyone knows what I’ve just swallowed. It’s not as if I have any reason at all to be embarrassed.

And yet, when Kellyn knocks on the door, the burning in my cheeks only intensifies.

“Are you all right?” he asks when he sees me. “Should I open a window?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Leftover anxiety from the meeting?” he guesses.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

The most awkward and unwelcome of giggles drifts up my throat, and I feel like a lunatic.

Just because I took the thing, it doesn’t mean we have to do anything. It was just a precaution.

Because you were hoping, my internal voice says.

Shh, I tell it.

“You make me like this,” I say when I get the ridiculous laughing under control. “You make me crazy. You make me awkward. You make me laugh.”

Kellyn’s face softens. He closes the distance between us, lets one finger trace from the back of my hand, up my arm. The trail sends flickers of heat through my skin.

“You make me happy,” Kellyn says. “You make me scared. Now that I have you, I’m so very afraid to lose you.”

“I know what you mean,” I whisper. The fingers of my right hand reach up to play lightly with the laces at his throat. It helps so very much to have something to do with my hands.

“You also make me believe that there’s hope for the world,” he says.

“The world?” I question.

“So many terrible things have happened to you, and yet you haven’t lost yourself. You’re still kind. Still strong. Still determined. The world is a better place for having you in it. My heart is better for having you in it.”

The words are unbelievably dramatic, but I love them. My ears ring with them, happy and full and right.

Now is the time.

“I don’t want you to ever go away,” I whisper as I stand on my toes. It’s not an admission of love, but the best I can manage at the moment.

“I won’t,” he says.

And he lowers his lips the rest of the way.

I will never cease to be amazed by how breathless and wonderful kissing him feels. It doesn’t matter how many times I do it, he’s never any less potent.

The feel of his fingers in my hair.

The smell of his skin.

The taste of him.

He’s all I never knew I wanted.

And, oh, how I want him right now.

Though the kiss starts slow, I deepen it almost immediately.

Kellyn doesn’t protest.

He grips me more tightly, lets me lead the kiss, as I press against him again and again, playing with his lips, licking them, biting them, savoring them.

They’re turned up all the while, as though he can’t help but smile. He likes this. Loves it when we’re physical.

I love it more than anything.

I pull at the laces at his neck. The gap only goes down to his mid-chest, but I follow the opening with my lips, tasting new parts of him.

In one sudden movement, Kellyn picks me up and lays me on the bed, sprawling himself over the top of me, which impedes my progress at his chest.

But I don’t mind one bit when he starts undoing the laces on my own nightgown.

Again, the gap doesn’t go nearly far enough, but I love feeling Kellyn’s lips against my collarbone, his heated breaths sliding beneath the cotton.

I need his lips higher. I need his lips lower.

I settle for the easier of the two, drawing him back up to my mouth.

And then I flip our positions, so I’m the one on top. I straddle his legs as I go for where his shirt is tucked into his pants, pulling the fabric free. He helps me hoist it over his arms and head.

I take in the sight of his chest greedily, let my fingers trace the pattern my eyes make. He’s so solid. So big. So beautiful.

And I remember my desire so long ago.

The one to touch him.

My imagination could never hold a candle to the reality of it.

Kellyn pulls my mouth to his for more biting kisses, and I try to free myself from the confines of my nightgown. I hadn’t realized at the time, when I wanted to touch him, just how much I would want him to touch me.