Page 25 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
Talemir lay down next to her, his shoulder brushing hers. ‘Too soon to tell.’
In the dimlight of the tent, he peeled her clothes away, layer by layer, his hands trailing across her skin, lighting a blazing fire of need. His mouth was lush and warm and ravenous against hers, his tongue exploring, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip before he licked over the fading pain.
The Warsword was braced above her, his body radiating heat and desire, her legs parting around him as she cradled his lower half between her thighs, noting the bulge of his cock straining against his pants.
Drue’s mouth went dry and her breathing became ragged as he discarded her chest band, exposing her swollen breasts to him, her nipples hard and aching for his touch. Talemir gazed upon her hungrily, as though memorising every curve, every inch of her skin before he kissed her again, rough and brutal, almost bruising. He trailed his lips down her neck, taking her nipple in his mouth.
She moaned, not caring who heard. Her blood was on fire and she needed desperately to feel him inside her, her body arching beneath his, craving more of him. In answer, he pressed his hard length against her, grinding into her, eliciting a soft cry from her lips.
A frenzy took hold of her, and she grabbed his belt, drawing him to her and fumbling with the buckle. She couldn’t wait any longer. Heat swelled at her core as he gave her a dark, delicious smile, his hands moving to his pants, buttons coming undone beneath deft fingers —
Drue sat bolt upright,panting, her hand pressed to her chest, her blood thrumming in her veins. The pink-and-gold hues of dawn seeped through the canvas and a furious blush stained her cheeks as she realised what had happened, her desire still very much pulsing between her —
‘Good dream?’ Talemir said from the tent flap, a smile tugging at his lips. His gaze skimmed across her nipples, peaked beneath her nightshirt, and her parted legs.
Embarrassment surging, Drue snatched her blanket and covered herself, trying to catch her breath.
‘Stay out of my head, Warsword,’ she managed through gritted teeth.
6
Talemir
At first, Talemir had thought she was having a nightmare. She had been crying out softly in her sleep, writhing atop her bedroll. But when he’d gone to wake her, he’d noticed the way her breasts were rising and falling in a rhythm, her back arching and her legs parting, her hand drifting south…
He’d realised then and there that she wasn’t having a bad time.
As much as the sight of her had ignited a roaring fire of need in his own veins, he’d never been one to spy upon a woman’s private moments without permission, and so he’d left the tent, trying to think of anything except that taut body and those sinful curves, and what they might look like naked beneath him.
It wasn’t easy, though. He’d lost count of how many times he’d paced the perimeter of the camp, couldn’t recall what the rangers on watch had said to him. All he could think about was her, wondering what, or who, exactly, she’d been dreaming of.
He’d waited for what he thought was the appropriate time, all the while avoiding the insistent glare of that damn hawk of hers. At last, he returned to the tent with two steaming cups of tea.
As he’d lifted the flap, Drue had sat bolt upright, eyes wide, cheeks deliciously flushed. He hadn’t been able to help himself.
‘Good dream?’
Snatching the blanket to her chest, she’d looked away, embarrassed. ‘Stay out of my head, Warsword.’
He bit back another suggestive comment. Instead, he offered her the steaming cup. ‘Here.’
Still ruffled, she glanced across. ‘What’s that?’
‘Tea…’
Her brow crinkled with suspicion.
‘It’s just tea, I promise.’
‘You’re bringing me tea now?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘If it bothers you, I won’t do it again.’
She seemed to consider this before at last reluctantly taking the cup from him and holding it between her palms. Apparently still mortified, she wouldn’t look at him.
‘I wasn’t in your head, by the way,’ he added quietly.
‘I don’t believe that for a second.’
