Page 84 of Of Rime and Ruin
“Don’t worry about it,” I grunt.
Her brow puckers, but she wraps her legs around my waist wordlessly and tangles her fingers in my hair. My chest tightens, and I wonder if she can feel the gallop of my heart.
“You’re so warm.” She presses her face to my skin and shudders.
That’s not good.
I’m the fucking Frost King. I’m practically made of ice. If the princess thinks I’m warm, something is seriously fucked up.
“Warm up,” I order her. “I’m gonna find you a fucking hat.”
I squeeze my thighs, urging the snowbear forward. Slowly, the hunters regain course. I pass several on my way to the front and manage to borrow an icefox fur cap.
“Here,” I grunt, tugging it over her ears.
With wide brown eyes, she stares at me. Gone is her usual defiance, the ever-burning flame of insolence. Only softness remains. She’s goddessdamn beautiful.
Have I noticed before?
Her brown skin flushes, speckled with golden freckles across her petite nose and full cheeks. Dark lashes frame her ever-watching eyes. The soft curve of her lips is perfection, as they pale with the remnants of frostbite. Would her lips be cold if I kissed her now? Should I warm them for her?
The longer she looks at me, the harder my heart pounds.
“Thank you,” she whispers. Her breath spills over my chest, those plump lips parting.
“You need to warm up slowly,” I tell her. “So unfortunately for us, that means skin-to-skin contact. Can you undo your sweater?” I glance at the small buttons entrapping her bosom, small pieces of dark stone threaded into the wool. Ten of them,good goddess. My throat tightens.
Her breasts rise and fall with her shallow breathing. With clumsy fingers, she grasps at the buttons.
“Here,” I grunt. I pinch the top one and push it through the hole. She spills through the opening, and my fingers brush her soft skin.
I freeze. Is this… okay? My head swims, clouded with a sudden pang of desire. It takes every ounce of my control not to take her breasts into my hands, bury my face between them, and become lost to the world.
Her hands fall into her lap, and she tilts her chest, giving me more room to work. I swallow thickly.
“Well, you d-d-do it, then,” she huffs. “It must b-be done.”
Carefully, I manage the rest of the buttons. With every pull, the restraint loosens. My hands skitter past her belly button, the soft rolls of her stomach, until finally the last button comes loose. I peel back the wool, revealing her bare, heavy breasts. Not a clinging starfish in sight.
My breath catches in my throat.Fuck me, they’re perfect.
Then she adjusts her position in the saddle, snuggling closer. As she presses against me, I can feel the stiff buds of her nipples. Her legs constrict around my waist, and she settles on my stiffening cock. She swirls her hands in my hair, twisting tighter. Tighter.Fuck.
“Stay still, Princess.”
She wiggles again, and fuck if I can help the responding twitch in my cock. “But you off-f-fered your hosp-p-pitality. Who am I to refuse?”
My hand moves of its own accord. I slide up her arm, gliding over the fabric and slipping around the chilled skin of her neck. My thumb brushes the faint lines of her hidden gills. A snarl ripples from my mouth.
Something inside of me comes undone, releasing a slow bleed of emotion. Darkness swirls in my thoughts. Hunger. Memory.
And in my head resounds the chorus of my being:Mine. Mine. Mine.
“Careful, Sunfish,” I whisper. “You don’t want to outstay your welcome.”
Her weight presses on my erection, and I grit my teeth. She lifts her gaze to my lips, a soft mewl escaping her mouth. “What did you c-call me?”
“I—” I frown.
