Page 12 of Artemysia
Before I can hesitate, I lean in and grasp her chin. There’s a beat of stillness between us. She blinks those brown eyes at me, and before I can chicken out, I cock my head and kiss her.
I kiss her the way I’ve been dying to do since the alleyway.
My body unravels at the soft, warm contact.
Her breath catches, but she parts her lips and lets me in. Her mouth is supple and tastes like pearfruit and brandy. Like Winter Carnival. For fuck’s sake, this woman tastes like a cozy winter’s eve. Perfection.
She rises to me, still clasping my hand, and presses herself against my chest, my hips. This woman stirs something deep within me. Itry to keep my fingers in respectful places, because she deserves reverence. Her shoulder, her neck. My thumb traces up her throat and along her jaw. I can’t help myself. Tangling my fingers into the silky braid near the base of her neck, I use it to guide her into me. She must like it, because she lets out a throaty hum and kisses me harder.
It takes an obscene amount of energy to contain myself. To maintain some restraint, even though I might be too far gone.
Three hours ago, I was fighting for my life against a band of Syf trying to kill me to prevent me from reaching the city. I still have their blood on my cloak. My blood is mixed in there too, and suddenly I wish I’d showered when I got to Stargazer, but I needed a drink before anything else.
I break away and bury my face in the hollow of her neck. She throws her head back to expose her throat to me, her braid whipping across her back. A split second later, I press her against the wall next to the window, wishing for her legs to wrap around me.
She grasps my shirt and drags me in so close that I feel her tits against my chest as she arches into me.
“I’m going to need to unbutton your shirt,” I murmur into her collarbone, running my tongue along it. I can see the tight peaks of her breasts through her white shirt and all I can think about is how much I’m dying to thumb one and pinch the other, to hear what noises she’ll make when I do.
“Yes. Hell yes,” she says, breathy and eager.
Her desire is heady. She sees something she likes in a lowlife scum like me.
My hands slide up her ribcage, careful not to touch the injured side I unknowingly kicked before. What a jerk. Why on earth did I feel the need to show off? I kiss her lips again before sliding a palm up the underside of her right breast, fingertips stroking through her white cotton shirt, toying with the buttons with my free hand.
I’m hard as hell, so I press my length against her, and she swears quietly into my mouth. Her hands tense at my waist, grasping at my belt to grind me against her.
“Hmm, you smell good,” she murmurs.
Her sweet voice alone is enough for me to almost lose control, but at the feel of her soft lips pulling at my neck—her hand pressed on mychest—my erection strains against the tight fabric of my pants. I know she feels it jutting against her low belly.
Two buttons undone, my hand slips in. She bites back a strangled breath. The warmth of her perfectly plump breast fills my palm—
A demonic, hairsplitting screech emerges from the window, followed by a muted flutter.
I curse and drop to the floor, protectively dragging her down with me.
What the hell is attacking us this high up?
We fall onto each other. The largest owl I’ve ever seen flies into the tower, swooping right over our heads.
The copper-colored bird lands on a rafter above and shuffles around to face us.
Its head is lighter in color than the rest of it, with tufts like horns. It glares at me with amber eyes in both a shocked and disapproving way as its golden talons dig into the rafter above.
“Good evening, Owlfred.” She laughs at the shocked expression on my face and gathers herself, pulling away from me.
She tosses her hair back, and I get one last glimpse of smooth skin peeking out at her waist before she straightens her shirt, tucking it in. Her lips are swollen from our kiss. The sight makes my cock twitch.
I’m tempted to lean in to her again, but hold myself back.
Her thumb absently skims her mouth as she stares up at the rafters. She seems lost in thought. “Don’t forget to offer Owlfred the dried berries, especially if you don’t want him to bother you during the night. Sometimes he brings back his own food and eats it while watching you sleep.” A sweet, bubbly laugh. “And don’t eat all my candy,” she adds.
The moment is lost. Godsdamn Owlfred.
But I’m curious about one thing. “Where’s his mate?” I don’t want to be swooped on again.
“Huh?”
