Page 65 of The Orc's Thief
The smile he gives me lights up a hidden, forgotten part of me. Something painful blooms in my chest, a realization that it will hurt so badly when this thing between us eventually shrivels and dies.
“All right,” he says, tugging at my jacket. “I can work with that. Now, let’s get some rest.”
“Tessa?” Arlon’s whisper pierces the complete darkness surrounding us. “Are you sleeping?”
“Mmhh,” I groan into the pillow. “I was, but now I’m not. What’s wrong?”
I’m lying. I wasn’t asleep, and by the chuckle coming from my left, Arlon knows it. It’s beentorturetrying to sleep on this narrow cot, in this tiny attic room. I was worried about the straw roof earlier, thinking it would let rain through, but that’s not the issue at all. The fact is, the sheaves of straw above us act as perfect insulation, and because our room has no windows, there’s no air flowing through it, either.
“I’m boiling,” Arlon murmurs. “I can’t sleep. I thought our Hill was warm, but this is awful.”
I wiggle onto my side to face him. “It’s all your fault. You’re a furnace.”
“I’m not used to sleeping in my riding pants and shirt,” he protests. “Besides, I suspect that wall over there is actually the chimney, straight from the taproom.”
He moves, which I only know because I hear him. I can’t see a thing. Someone must’ve blown out the lantern in the hall, because there’s no light coming from under the door. I’m at a disadvantage, too, because I’m almost certain Arlon can see, even in complete darkness. Despite his bulk, he hasn’t jabbed me with his elbows once, and now I feel his warm gaze on me.
“You’re staring, aren’t you?” I grumble. “It’s not fair.”
“Aye, I’m staring. You can’t blame a man for staring at a beautiful woman.”
Hopefully, the darkness hides my blush, at least. His eyesight can’t be that good. I duck my head, trying to think of what to do.
“Are you wearing underwear?” I ask finally, pushing through my embarrassment.
“I am,” he replies, his voice dropping low. “Why? Do you want to see it?”
“No!” I smack the back of my hand on his chest. “I was about to allow you to take your pants off, but if you’re going to tease me about it, I’ll rescind my offer.”
He catches my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles, then kisses them lightly. “Forgive me. Please let me take off my pants.”
I smother a giggle against the pillow. “Fine. But only because I’m boiling too, and I want to take off mine.”
Mistress Maeve must be burning up a week’s supply of wood in that big fireplace downstairs, judging by how hot it is up here.
“What do I have to do to earn taking my shirt off, too?” Arlon asks.
We’re lying so close together, his breath skims over my heated skin, and I shiver, goosebumps erupting all over my body despite the warmth of the room.
“Come on, Tessa,” he pleads, pressing my hand against his chest. “Feel this. I’m sweating.”
My palm touches warm skin under his collarbone, where he must’ve pulled his shirt aside, and my thoughts go quiet. I kissed Arlon earlier, but this…this feels more intimate. Perhaps it’s because we’re lying down, or because I can’t see anything, but my heart kicks against my ribs, and I suck in a breath, which only makes it worse. His scent swirls around me, potent, undiluted.
“Ah, love.” Arlon touches my cheek and brushes my hair back from my face. “What on earth are you thinking now?”
“You,” I blurt out before thinking better of it. “You smell nice.”
His grip on my hand tightens. “So do you.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I know what you’re feeling.”
“Of course you do.” I groan, tipping my head back. “Why is this so hard?”
Arlon snorts. “I’ve been asking that since I first scented you.”
“Oh, gods.”
I try to pull my hand away from him, laughing, but he won’t let me. Instead, he rolls me closer, until our knees are touching. With my hand still on his chest, his presence is undeniable.
“We need sleep, Tessa,” he says, his words serious. “We should end this torture. I’ll make you come, you make me come, and we’ll both feel a lot better.”
