Page 52 of Fallen
“The first thing ye need to know is thatnothingabout yer past bothers me,” he continued. Her lips parted as she prepared to argue with him, but Craeg pressed on. “Ye forget … I’ve seen it all. I wasbornin a brothel … my mother was a whore. I know what happens there, how many of the women are forced into that life.” He paused and drew in a steadying breath. “I also know that Duncan MacKinnon is a pig. He took his perversions, his hatred for women, and made them yer burden. I vow that he’ll pay for that.”
Coira’s throat bobbed, although when she replied, her voice was firm. “We’llbothmake him pay, Craeg,” she murmured.
“Aye,” Craeg replied, vehement now. “Ye too want reckoning … I understand that.” He took a step closer to her, half expecting her to back away, but instead Coira held her ground. “Once he’s dead … once ye trust men again … ye will heal.”
She swallowed, her gaze gleaming now as tears threatened.
Craeg’s throat thickened. He didn’t want to make her weep, but the words inside him had to be spoken. “Time moves against us now,” he said, softening his tone. “I don’t want to go into battle without knowing what it’s like to kiss ye.”
Her chest heaved, and even though they weren’t touching, Craeg felt the tension emanating off her.
“I’m still a nun,” she finally managed the words, although her voice sounded choked.
Craeg’s mouth curved. “Not dressed like that, ye aren’t.”
“A habit doesn’t make a woman a nun … but the vows she takes.”
“Aye.” He moved closer still to her, unable to stop himself. “But ye have left the order, have ye not?” He raised a hand then and brushed the back of his knuckles across her cheek—as he had that night in that moonlit glade. How he’d longed to kiss her back then, and the yearning had not lessened. It had grown to a hunger that now dominated every waking thought.
He felt her tremble, heard the whisper of her quickened breathing. She was fighting the hunger too—he knew it.
Heat pulsed between them, as did an ocean of things unsaid. Words were pointless now though. There were too many reasons why he shouldn’t be touching her, shouldn’t want her with his body and soul. But none of them would stop him now.
With a stifled groan, Craeg cupped her face with his hands and leaned in, his lips brushing hers. It was a tentative kiss, feather-light. He didn’t want to startle her or force this moment.
Craeg brushed his lips across Coira’s once more, giving her the chance to pull away, yet she didn’t. And when a soft, breathy sigh escaped her, Craeg covered Coira’s mouth with his.
Coira had never been kissed before.
The men who’d frequentedThe Goat and Goosedidn’t kiss the whores. There wasn’t any tenderness, any intimacy, in what had passed between her and the men she’d once serviced. They’d disrobed, rutted her, tossed her a coin, and left.
This was completely new to Coira, and when Craeg’s lips first touched hers, a dizzying wave of panic rose up within her. He was crossing her boundaries, smashing down the walls that had kept her safe over the years.
But she didn’t shrink away.
Despite the blood roaring in her ears, her wildly beating pulse, she forced down her fear. His lips brushed hers once again, and the need she’d been fighting for days now ignited within her like dry kindling to a naked flame.
His lips were soft, and the heat of his body, the spicy male scent of his skin, sucked the breath from her. She couldn’t help it; a sigh of need escaped her.
And that was when everything changed.
His mouth slanted over hers, firmer now, and his tongue gently parted her lips.
Aching want swept over Coira, along with a desperation that shoved any lingering fear aside.
He tasted better than the first apple wine of the autumn, better than fresh bread or heather honey. He smelled like summer rain, like crushed grass, like oiled leather. He was life, death, and eternity all in one kiss.
A cry rose in Coira’s throat, smothered by his gently exploring lips, his masterful tongue. She heard her quarter-staff thud to the ground, slipping from nerveless fingers. Not caring, she leaned into him, her tongue tentatively stroking his.
Craeg groaned, deep in his throat, his hands sliding down from her face to her shoulders. He drew her against him, gathering her into his arms as his kisses deepened.
Coira was lost. Her hands came up, her fingertips tracing his jaw, his neck—resting in the hollow between his collarbones, where his pulse raced. She couldn’t believe she’d lived her whole life till now without this.
His body, pressed against the length of hers, was strong, warm, and exciting beyond measure. Her fingers ached to strip away the clothing that lay between them. She longed to know what his naked flesh felt like pressed up against hers. Hot desire flooded through her, dizzying in its intensity.
It was Craeg who eventually ended the kiss. His breathing came in ragged pants, his eyes gleaming, when he pulled back. His face was taut, his expression feral.
Their gazes fused as the first glimmers of early dawn filtered into this dark corner of the ravine.
