Page 19 of A Tribute of Fire

I did as he instructed and his tongue invaded my mouth. A bolt of shock slammed into me until he stroked his tongue along mine and my knees buckled. His hands tightened around my waist and he lifted me up, holding me against him. He picked me up as if I weighed no more than a feather.

His size and strength should have scared me, but I found them intoxicating.

He began to tease me with his tongue. He ran it softly across my lips, then back into my mouth, stoking the inferno he had set to life inside me. Everywhere he touched me with his mouth and his tongue sizzled, as if he’d marked me his. Branded me permanently.

No wonder Quynh liked this so much!

“You should not let strange men kiss you this way.” His words were broken against my lips. He seemed surprised by my reaction. As if he had been prepared for a slap or a protest, and not my enthusiastic participation.

I slid down his body, able to stand on my own feet again. “And you should not let strange women—”

He swallowed my retort with his mouth. His hands were everywhere—in my hair, holding my neck, at my waist to pull me closer. I could only briefly register his constantly moving touch, too caught up in what we were doing with our kiss.

I finally understood what was happening between us. It was swordplay with an entirely different type of weapon. A type of combat that would end not in pain, but in a pleasure I hadn’t even imagined possible. Press forward, retreat, keeping my footing, engaging my hands, plunging into battle.

And I knew how to fight.

I gave as good as I got, matching him stroke for stroke, taste for taste, touch for touch, kiss for kiss.

“You taste like honey,” I murmured against his mouth.

Jason smiled. “You taste sweeter than honey.”

I put my hands on his broad shoulders and maneuvered him to the tree. When his back made contact, he smiled again. “I’m meant to be leading you, not the other way around.”

“I’ve always been a quick study,” I said, leaning up to fuse our mouths together again.

He groaned low in his throat at my action, his body a hot, strong line against mine as I pressed into him, and I realized that at some point he had changed from an arrogant, smug braggart to something else.

Something I’d turned him into.

He was no longer in control or instructing me, no longer amused by me or the things I was saying. No, he unraveled against me, bit by bit. His breathing was ragged; his heart thundered in his chest. He shuddered against me.

Jason was not unaffected.

I had only a moment to glory in the victorious feeling this gave me, as if I’d somehow won this battle, when his mouth went wild against mine. Now I was the one moaning against his lips and his onslaught.

Exquisite sensations racked my body, like an icy fire that raced up and down my veins. I was burning and freezing at the same time, which both confused and exhilarated me.

I had often wondered what it would be like to wield magic, and I couldn’t imagine that it was much different from this—the magic two people could create just by kissing. It was almost otherworldly.

And whenever I thought there couldn’t possibly be more passion, more intensity, more desire, that the kiss could not be any deeper, wilder, or hotter, he repeatedly proved me wrong. He transported me to a dizzying height that made my mind go hazy, unable to think about anything other than his kiss and touch.

I’d never fainted before, but it started to feel like a real possibility.

I had an overwhelming need to be closer to him. My hand was in his silken hair and I traced it down his face to rest on his neck. His skin was so warm, so alive, so soft but strong at the same time. I wanted access to more of him. To rip apart every barrier between us.

He pulled back and smiled at my whining nonverbal protest. “There is no need to rush,” he said and I wanted to heartily disagree.

But then he distracted me by pressing soft kisses along my jaw, down the side of my exposed throat. This was new and interesting and delightful. I leaned my head back to give him better access and sighed. I could feel his smile against my skin.

His voice was rough and deep. “I would have come here a long time ago if I had known that all Locrian women were so welcoming to Ilionian men.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It took a moment for my mind to clear, and for me to properly understand what he had just said.

The second that the full impact of it slammed into me, I threw myself back, rolling to the ground for my dagger. In one swift movement I had it unsheathed and was back on my feet, holding it at the ready.

---