Page 33 of Ashborne Forged

Trust?

It was startling, how quickly she gave herself up. I was stunned speechless as, without hesitation, she let go of my hands, dropped them to her sides, and straightened her spine, lifting her chin. Her eyes remained locked with mine. ‘What next?’

God, she was stunning.

I almost said to hell with it, and forgot about the lesson. My body lurched, my skin seeming ready to rise off my bones to get closer. But as I swayed, I blew out a breath, and smiled.

I would make this good for her. I’d reward my adventurous mate for her trust, and make her eager to give herself into my hands.

“You just stay there. Don’t move unless I tell you to do so,” I whispered.

She nodded and I stroked a finger to follow the line of her jaw, smiling when goosebumps rose on her neck. And then I began.

Soft touches, simple strokes to begin—curling fingers at the edge of her ear, scraping nails softly on her scalp, following the curve of her jaw, then her throat, then down to the neckline of her jacket—fingertips only—so that the pebbling skin began to dance ahead of my touch, and her breathing quickened.

Her jacket was open already, but I didn’t remove it. Leaning a hair closer, I popped the top button on her shirt, slowly pressing the linen aside with a single finger drawn just under her collarbones, then following the edge of the fabric down to the next.

One, by one, by one—always pressing the soft fabric out and away, like a slowly peeled fruit, swallowing hard when my fingers found the soft warmth of her breast. She shivered, and swayed closer, but didn’t move her feet, a line of frustration appearing on her brow when I didn’t quite reach the nipple before the fabric began to tug and I followed it down again.

Her ribs.

Her navel.

Until I met the buckle of her belt.

For a moment, I paused. The deep, narrowing V of the shirt, still tucked into her leathers, offered a stunning view from above—her collarbones in harsh relief as her chest rose and fell, quick and shallow. The full rounds of her breasts—taut and pebbled, tightening the skin. I knew her nipples would be hard and pointed, just out of sight, and the temptation to simply rip the shirt and jacket off and bare her shuddered through me. But I tugged at that leash and held myself back.

“Voski—” she breathed.

“Don’t. Move.”

Using both hands, but slowly, gently, I unbuckled her belt and let the ends fall, then grasped the waistband and flicked that first button open, following the leather down to the next, then the next, until she was one quick tug away from being bare.

I leaned in, leaned over her, let my quickening breath wash against her lips.

Her chest rose faster, eyes glazed, and hooded. She began to sway closer, but just as our lips would have brushed, I smiled and sank into a crouch.

Her eyes widened as I trailed my fingers back up the leather fly to the waistband, dragging my fingers along the underside, my nails just brushing her belly. Then, when I reached her hips, I took hold of each side, and paused.

“Tell me what you want.” My voice was ragged. A dark gravel. I felt her suck in.

“You,” she whispered. And the bond, which was already glowing, flared with light.

Dear God.

I was forced to grasp her hips in the flats of my palms, gripping too tightly to stop myself merely stripping her bare and taking her on the spot. But I leaned forward and laid a kiss just under her navel.

She curled around me, her chin dropping, her hands diving into my hair, but I caught her wrists, then opened my mouth and delved her navel with the tip of my tongue. ‘I told you to stay still.’

‘I’m aching, Voski. You don’t have to go this slow.’

Smugly satisfied, I looked up at her, locking in on her wide eyes as I let my teeth graze her belly. ‘Oh, yes I do. And the next time you touch me, I’m going slower.’

With a whimper, she tugged her hands from my grip, but left them, shaking, at her sides. Her breath continued, quick and shallow, and she trembled.

Dropping one knee to the floor between her toes, I reached for my own jacket and began to undress—slowly. Leaning in, every few seconds to lay an open mouthed kiss on her stomach.

When her eyes dragged closed and her breath began to pant, I reached for her through the link again, gratified when her eyes flew open.