He turned with her and she tensed.
“Where are we going?” She pressed her hands to his shoulders and pushed him back.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers and loved how her eyes sparkled with stars. He had done that.
“To the bed. To rest. I need to hold you.” He half-expected her to deny him, but she relaxed and didn’t protest. Because she wanted to be held by him?
Her left hand lifted from his shoulder and she stroked it across his lower lip, her gaze growing concerned. “What happened here?”
He looked away from her, purely because he needed to be focused on not tripping over the broken furniture on his way to the bed. It had nothing to do with how awkward he felt as he grumbled the answer to her question.
“I needed to bite you, so I bit myself instead.” And it hadn’t been at all satisfying, but it had kept his fangs busy and had stopped him from crossing a line.
“Oh.” Her eyebrows rose as he flicked a glance at her and he noted that she kept stroking his lower lip.
Maddening him.
He drew the covers back on the bed, set her down on her feet on the mattress, and stepped back from her. Even standing on the mattress she was only a head taller than him. His petite witch.
He reached for the ribbons on her corset.
She tensed and both hands came up as her gaze dropped to her chest. “What are you doing?”
“Undressing you. I want you to be comfortable.” He wanted her naked.
She didn’t seem to mind, lowered her hands and let him have his way. Or maybe she wanted to watch him suffer. His fingers were too big for the delicate lacing and he ended up getting one of the fine ribbons tangled with another.
He huffed and his claws extended.
Hella snatched his wrist. Not to stop him, but to guide his hand to her side.
Where there was a damned zipper.
She smiled wickedly at him and he mock-scowled at her, even as he savoured her amusement.
“How long were you going to let me struggle to get you out of this damned thing?” He eased the zipper down, anticipation curling through him to heat his blood as his gaze locked on the strip of creamy flesh he slowly exposed.
She shrugged. “About as long as I did. I don’t take violence towards my possessions very well. The moment the claws came out, it was game over.”
It was a good job she had arrived before he had gone to town on her carpet bag then. He could only imagine how furious she would have been had she found all her possessions destroyed.
He was tempted to quip about how he didn’t take violence towards his possessions very well either, but the filter he had been working on caught it before it left his lips. Another good thing. At least he was learning to watch his mouth. Speaking of her as a possession, even in a playful way as it would have been, would end with him castrated and alone.
He bit back a groan as he peeled her corset away to reveal her breasts. She must have noticed his pained expression, because another smile lit up her face and she tormented him further by bending to shimmy her skirt down her legs. She reached out and gripped his right forearm as she tackled her boots, steadying herself.
And warming him.
He gazed at her hand on his arm, a sign of trust and maybe a little dependence that he enjoyed.
When she cast her boots aside and reached for her stockings, he snared her hands and stopped her.
“Leave them.” His voice had gone low, gravelly, and his blood burned as he gazed at her, the thought of her silky stockings brushing his bare legs as she lay with him rousing his desire.
She rolled her eyes and straightened to stand before him in all her glory, a temptress that beckoned him to her, had him wanting to gather her in his arms and make love to her this time.
And then she flopped onto the bed, pulled the covers over herself to steal herself from view, and patted the spot beside her when he didn’t move.
“Come on. Strip and hop in.” She made it sound as if this wasn’t a big moment for them.