Page 86 of Sunder

Instead, he placed her on the desk itself, watching her carefully to see if the hard surface was better or worse than standing upright.

She did not understand his aim, didn’t know why she was there, and she tried to sort out how exactly to be comfortable when his hands came to her knees.

Her dress was thin, and she had meant to put on proper undergarments before venturing to the bookseller. But then they’d come here. Which meant she had only thin fabric as a barrier when he pushed them apart.

She swallowed.

She would not mate with him here. Not like this. Did he think she would?

Chastisement welled onto her tongue, even as her heart raced as she wondered as what he might do next. Coax her to lie down? Surely not. She wouldn’t, even if he asked.

Perhaps this was how he would keep his word about sharing her sickbed. He would ask nothing of her, so long as she felt poorly, but that might not apply to desks and other non-bed pieces of furniture.

Which should have made her nervous. Should have made her shove at his shoulders and demand he explain himself.

Why then was she still? Did she allow her legs to part, her skirts bunching indecently as he stepped into the space he’d made for himself?

“Better?” he asked. Not full of lurid looks and selfish intent. Always careful with her.

“Enough,” she quipped, surprised at herself. At him. And finding she was not displeased with this new development. When it meant he did not have to lean down quite so far, when she did not have to crook her neck in the same fashion in order to be close to him.

Liked the way he smiled as he kissed her again, how his fingers played with her hair. Liked how it felt to be a little bit indecent, positioned so.

These were not the fantasies she’d fostered as a girl. Those included picnics by the sea. Strolls through the market as they held hands and purchased pretty things to adorn her night-table.

She’s shoved away anything that dealt with more. When the bond would whisper at her, when she felt those little stirrings that came with growing older, they’d frightened and distressed her.

She could change that now. Could indulge. Explore. It was all right. He was here, and he cared about her, would treasure her.

Did it matter they hadn’t finished all the texts yet? That there were things he did not know, that he must, or... should... but...

His hand drifted downward. Not far. Only from her neck, down the sharp bones of her collar. Then where the bond pulsed the most fiercely, where she rubbed so often, the skin was often pink from her ministrations. He paused there only briefly before he moved to cover one of her breasts.

There was little softness to offer his palm, but he did not seem to mind, not with the sound he made in the back of his throat as he rested it there.

Should she touch him back in some way? She wasn’t sure. It was all new, and she did not know where it was going, and it made her motions slow as she held onto his shoulders.

It was... pleasant. To be touched there. Strange. Warm. A bit of awkwardness about the edges because she did not know why he would wish to do so when she was clothed and there was nothing of particular interest to draw him there.

But she could admit she liked the scandalous nature of it. That he should want to, which brought its own particular pleasure.

“What are we doing?” Orma asked when he freed her mouth long enough to do so. He was kissing at her jaw, the curve behind her ear. It tickled, and she wriggled, which only brought her legs tighter about him.

“Kissing,” Athan answered, low and deep, as he closed his eyes and held his head against her shoulder for a moment. The bond was a heartbeat all its own, flaring and nudging, urging things that would not happen on this desk. Absolutely not.

But her resolve was not as firm as it had been, not when she could feel just how affected he was by their affections.

Everything was acceptable between mates. So long as no one was there to see, no one would know...

But she would. She’d think of their first time being in his study rather than a proper bed. Did others come in here? Did they sit and talk with him, while he’d have visions of her splayed and wanton?

She swallowed thickly, her fingers delving into his hair as she brought his face back up to look at her. “Just kissing, yes?”

His expression gentled as he brought his hand from her breast to cup her cheek. “Our mating will be when you are comfortable,” Athan promised. “With a soft bed behind you and a mate who adores you on top of you.” His thumb moved against her cheekbone, and she shouldn’t listen to such talk, shouldn’t feel shivers down her spine and in her blood to hear him speak of such things. “Or perhaps you would like the reverse?”

She flushed all over, picturing it. Which only made her pulse race faster before she shook her head slowly. “No,” Orma murmured, her throat tight and her fingers itching to touch him more. To keep him close. “The other way.”

He kissed her again. And this time, it felt like a promise of what was to come.

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