Wildest Dreams (Fantasyland #1)(32)

Then I realized I had no choice. I made the deal, I had to do it. I couldn’t go running into the night, Frey would find me and anyway, I’d freeze to death. I had to go to the loft and when I got there, maybe I could talk him into taking it slow, as in, making out tonight for awhile, getting the hang of each other and then seeing what tomorrow brings.

I could do that, I could make out with him. I already knew he was a good kisser. That would be nice, hell, that would be great.

Then my mind came back to reality with a, Fat chance of convincing him of that, Finnie.

I stared at my face in the mirror.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. That was what Dad (and a bunch of other people) always said.

I blew out the candles in the bathroom space and walked out to the living room.

All was dark except the fireplaces that had been fed and were blazing big and bright. The curtains had been pulled by me, way earlier, to shut out the draft after the sun went down. I’d learned that early, as in, after the first night I slept there when I woke up on the couch with a stiff neck.

The curtain at the railing at the loft was mostly closed, light was coming through where it was opened at the end.

By the ladder.

Eek!

I tried to remember if Penelope was in or out when I saw her rise to all fours where she was curled on one of the fluffy throws on an armchair. She stretched her back, sat on her ass and blinked through the firelight at me. Then she looked up at the loft like she knew what was about to happen there. Then she looked back at me and blinked. Then she jumped off the armchair, landing with a fat kitty thump and waddled into the kitchen.

Well, guess she wasn’t going up there with me to assist me in talking Frey into a make out session.

With no choice, I went to the ladder and climbed up.

When I got up, I didn’t look. I entered the space bent double (because I had to, though this was not good considering my major cle**age and the fact that it made the nightie ride up my ass) and turned to shut the curtain. Then I sucked in a deep breath while hiding sucking in a deep breath and let it out while turning back.

I had put three candleholders in each corner to light the space. When I read at night, I moved six of them beside the bed but I kept them in the corners normally to keep them away from the bedclothes.

All of them were lit, the fire in the grate was blazing, the space seemed warm and cozy and Frey was wearing nothing but breeches and crouched before the fire.

He looked hot. His muscled shoulders looked broad. His defined lats looked powerful. And his eyes were on me. Or, more accurately, they were on my nightie.

Ho boy.

I should have crouched, though that wouldn’t have been much better.

“Uh… hi,” I whispered.

At the sound of my voice, Frey blinked then he moved. Slowly, his big body shifted then he crawled on all fours into the bed as I stood still and watched without blinking.

There was something animal about that, the way he moved, the unhurried way he did it, his muscles bunching, the fact that he didn’t tear his eyes from my face.

It was animal, graceful, predatory… fascinating.

My mouth went dry and I totally forgot about talking him into just making out.

He dropped to a hip and said gently, “Come here, Finnie.”

For some reason, without hesitation, I went there. Falling to my knees when my toes hit bedclothes, I moved across the space, stopped two feet away and put my rump to my calves. Then my body stilled when his hand came up. It went to my hair and with a gentle tug, the ribbon was gone and my hair tumbled down.

Well, so much for that effort.

His hand curled warm around my neck.

“I wish to feel it all over me, wife,” he whispered.

Hmm.

I liked that.

“Okay,” I whispered back.

When I spoke, his eyes did what they did in the market that day, they got lazy and they smiled.

My belly dropped.

Wow.

His hand at my neck curled around to the back and his other hand came to my waist, fingertips only, gliding in, sliding back then I felt his whole hand then, pressing at the small of my back, he pulled me toward him slowly.

I kept my eyes glued to his as my breath started coming faster and my body started trembling – from fear, definitely, anxiety, you bet, and something else, absolutely.

As he pulled me closer, his hand at the small of my back wrapped around my waist, tugging me gently so I fell from my calves to my hip and thigh. Then I was pulled closer… my head tipping back… closer… his head dipping down… closer… then my eyes dropped to his mouth right before they drifted closed and he touched his lips to mine.

That was it. A gentle touch then he used his hands and his torso to push me until my back was to the bed, my head to the pillows and he settled at my side on his forearm, the hand that was at my neck sliding down my shoulder, my arm, in, over the lace and satin at my ribs, down, over my belly, curling at my waist, down, over my hip, all of this slow, all of this taking his time, all of this while his eyes watched.

That felt nice, even relaxing, but I was in no state to relax. The heat in his eyes and the expression on his face were both communicating to me in a way that made my skin heat. And his chest was right there, all of it, there was a lot of it, it was fantastic and I wanted to touch.

But I was terrified at the same time.

Still, he was touching me so I should get to touch him. And I wanted it so I lifted my hand and slowly moved it toward his chest as his hand slid back up to my belly then suddenly my hand was arrested in mid-air because his fingers had curled around my wrist.