Page 42 of A Treacherous Trade
Later, when my every sense wasn’t overwhelmed by him, I would be ashamed of myself for even harboring such thoughts.
Night Horse, an apt and eager pupil, mimicked my movements at first, pressing and releasing my mouth. Then he grew bolder, testing the topography from corner to corner, glossing my lips with an intriguing, open-mouthed glide.
When I’d been kissed in the past, I often came away with abrasions of stubble, especially in the evening, when a man’s shadow beard came in.
His cheek, however, was as smooth as mine, if nowhere near as soft.
Captivated, I shaped my hand to his jaw, charting my thumbs over the planes and hollows beneath his cheekbones. Enjoying the feel of his skin, the soft, damp sounds our lips made as they explored.
Pressure grew where we were joined. And where we were not.
While his hands remained firmly against the wall, I was hardly aware of how restless mine had become until they dropped to trace a line against the downy nape of his neck. I suddenly craved the smooth silk of his tresses between my fingers.
With tentative motions, I went to work on the thong binding his hair back.
The atmosphere between us changed, warning me only the space of a breath before the kiss deepened. Hardened. Became more carnal than curious.
He licked over the seam of my mouth, distracting me from the undulation of his body until I realized with a jolt that he’d pressed me into the wall with his entire length. My thundering heart suddenly froze as the evidence of his arousal ground against me.
Even as something low in my belly clenched in response.
In demand.
With a gasp, I broke the seal of our mouths, my eyes flying open.
The gaze that met mine surpassed the realm of dangerous to nothing less than fatal, containing a warning he manifested into words.
“If you untie my hair, you release my restraint, do you understand?” I’d never heard his voice so low. So lethal. “I will have you then.”
I snatched my hands back to tuck against the safety of my own chest, my breath an unwilling prisoner in my throat.
Uttering a foreign curse, he pushed away from the wall and turned from me, dragging the sleeve of his shirt across his mouth.
A man of his word was Aramis Night Horse. He was right about how fortunate I was in that regard.
I didn’t wipe him from my own lips, however. Partly because I couldn’t move, and partly because he was flavored of chicory and something sharper. Like wine, perhaps.
I didn’t want to brood on how pleasant I found the spice. Or that I’d enjoyed kissing a murderer.
“Was that enough?” I asked, in a hoarse voice I could hardly recognize. “Enough for you to keep your part of the bargain?”
He whirled and pinned me with glare, his ribs expanding with incredible gasps of breath.
In that moment, I recognized him not at all.
Before either of us could speak, he seized the wispy sleeve of Amelia’s lovely dress and, with a quick yank, shredded it from my shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked, leaping away from him.
“Keeping my part of the bargain.” Seizing my arm, he effortlessly pinned me into place. His free hand delved into my hair, without a hint of seductive intent, emerging with pins and combs until a half of the coiffure wilted down the right side of my scalp. Ripping off my mask, he threw it to the ground.
By the time I’d gathered my wits, he’d discarded the pins to the floor in a chaotic scatter and let out a sound so shocking in pitch and tone that I was struck dumb.
Something inside me cringed as he leapt onto the bed, bounding against the mattress in rhythmic jumps, emitting grunts and groans that set my skin aflame with mortification.
I’d never believe this if I wasn’t witnessing it myself.
Aramis Night Horse, possibly the most stolid, enigmatic being ever to be claimed by the night, was jumping on the bed hard enough to rap the headboard against the wall. His feet bare, his shirt only buttoned to his sternum, he kicked at the covers and leapt from corner to corner.
