Page 90 of Kissed By the Gods
“I’m sorry I screwed up,” I say. “But I’ll be fine with my coat. It’s the warmest thing I’ve ever owned.”
Ryot lets out a low, unamused laugh. “You’ll be dead in an hour.”
He doesn’t look at me, just keeps working. I stand there, the wind whipping my hair into my face. He finishes and stands. Without looking at me, he rips open the flap of his tent. “Get in.”
I hesitate. We’ve both been avoiding—as much as we can—moments that leave us alone together. Definitely anything that has ustouching. Ryot hasn’t even done hand-to-hand with me since that day he put me on the ground—he always has me fight Faelon or Nyrica or Leif.
My hesitation is one second too long.
“Get. In,” he growls.
I duck inside, because the warmth is draining from my blood with every breath, every beat of my heart, and he’s probably just as cold. It’s small. No, tight. The kind of space built for one body, and even then, it’s barely big enough. I press my back against the far side and wrap my shivering arms around my knees, which I’ve pulled up to my chest. Ryot ducks in next, his broad shoulders brushing the sides. He smells like leather and cinnamon and wind.
Sweet Serephelle, this is bad.
He doesn’t look at me, but starts undoing the clasps on his leather cuffs, methodical and efficient. Every time he moves, he brushes against me. I sit still, my hands still wrapped around the Treatise on Tactical Collapse as if it’s going to teach me how to survivethis.
After a long silence, he says, “Next time you forget furs, I’m throwing you off the mountain.”
I huff. “You’d miss me.”
He finally glances at me, a flicker of those blue eyes in the dark. “Don’t make me test that.” A beat. Then, quieter, “You’re shivering.”
“I’m fine.”
He sighs, long and low and so very tired. “You’re not. Come here.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to let you freeze because you’re too stubborn to admit you're human.”
I shift closer to him, and he reaches across the space between us and pulls me in.
We both inhale sharply once he’s holding me tight against his body, my back to his chest, and he lays us down on our sides, his arms around me. He exhales, breath stirring the hair at the napeof my neck, but neither of us speaks. Outside, the wind howls as if it’s furious we’ve found even a scrap of warmth. But in here, in this cramped little tent gradually warming with our combined body heat, it’s just him and me and the beat of our hearts, beginning to sync.
Then he shifts, barely, his nose brushes against the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. He breathes in deep, and it’s not accidental. It’s deliberate.
A soft, involuntary sound escapes my throat.
He stops, but I don’t. I lean back into him, every part of me sayingyes. His teeth scrape down the side of my neck, and I whimper. I latch my hands on his forearm, where he’s got it wrapped around my stomach, and I hold tight to him, seeking his skin wherever I can find it. I push my hips back into him, and the feel of his hard length against my ass provokes a groan from both of us. He tightens his grip and flips me over so that we’re face to face and he’s on top of me, his wandering lips finding mine. Our mouths collide on a desperate breath—teeth scraping and lips crashing. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet.
No, this is hard. Like we are. It’s heat and hunger, the kind that lives in your bones and makes you ache, the kind that saysI need younotI want you.
Ryot kisses like he fights—commanding, relentless, like he doesn’t know how to hold back, and I don’t want him to try. His hand slides beneath my coat, up my ribs, fingers skating the curve of my breast, testing me.
I arch into him. I’m breathless. I’m alive. I tangle my hands in his hair, fisting tight. His teeth catch on my lower lip, and I groan. Want surges, leaving me hot and helpless. His hips grind into mine, and gods, his hardness pressed against me pulls a whimper from deep in my throat.
I want him. I want himnow. I hook my leg around his waist?—
And hestops.
“Leina,” he whispers my name like it’s a prayer. Or maybe a curse. “Fuck.”
He presses his forehead into mine and pants. “We can’t do this.”
“I—” My mind circles, trying to think about the rules, but they elude me.
“We’re not allowed to kiss?” I finally ask.
