Page 68 of Fallen
This is it.
Until now, she and Craeg had danced around each other, but once she took this step, life was bound to get messy, complicated. She risked getting hurt, risked having her heart ripped to pieces.
But she hadn’t lied at supper. She was done hiding from life.
It was now time to embrace it.
Coira pushed aside the tent flap, stooped low, and entered the tent.
To her surprise, Craeg was still awake. He sat propped up on a pile of furs, staring moodily up at where shadows danced upon the roof of his tent. A small brazier burned next to him, the orange light burnishing the planes of his chest.
Coira’s mouth went dry when she realized that apart from a form-fitting pair of leather breeches, he was naked.
For a moment she merely gazed at him, taking in the beauty of his tall, strong body, his broad chest.
And then his gaze flicked to her, and she struggled to catch her breath.
Suddenly, the impulse that had driven her here felt reckless and ill-advised. She’d deliberately avoided thinking on the consequences. After years of steering clear of men, she’d now walked straight into one’s lair.
And yet, this man wasn’t a predator. He’d only ever been gentle with her.
Craeg stared at her, surprise flickering over his face, before he favored her with a slow smile that made her belly somersault. “Couldn’t sleep either?”
Coira swallowed. “No.”
“I should be exhausted,” he said, giving a slow, languorous stretch. “Iamexhausted.”
“So am I,” Coira admitted. She couldn’t take her gaze from his brawny arms, from the play of muscles across his sculpted chest. He’d removed the bandage from around his torso, and despite that she stood a few feet away, Coira could see that the injury looked healthy enough. The battle hadn’t split it open as she’d feared. “But I couldn’t sleep … not without seeing ye.”
Craeg pushed himself up into a sitting position upon the furs. His mouth quirked. “And what can I do for ye, Coira?”
Heaving in a deep breath, Coira reached up and began to unlace the bodice of her kirtle.
“I want to lie with ye, Craeg,” she murmured.
His gaze widened, his lips parting as he stared at her.
“Our world’s in turmoil,” she continued, “and there’s every chance either of us could succumb to the sickness. That being the case, I want to live for the moment. I want ye.”
She pushed down the sleeves of the kirtle and shrugged it off; the garment fluttered into a pool around her ankles, and she stepped out of it. Underneath, she wore the long sleeveless léine.
“Are ye sure this is what ye desire?” he asked. His voice came out in a rasp, very different to the confident tone he’d used earlier. His naked chest now rose and fell quickly. “Some things can’t be undone, mo chridhe.”
Coira, who now reached for the hem of her léine, stilled a moment.
My heart.
Did he mean those words, or was it merely an endearment?
What did it matter? The fact remained that her legs now trembled from wanting him, the pulsing ache between her thighs too much to bear.
“I know that,” she whispered. “But I want to be undone.”
And with that, she grasped the hem of her léine and drew it up over her head.
Standing naked before him, she was aware of the warm air inside the tent feathering over her sensitive skin, of the rasp of both of their breathing—and of the searing heat of his gaze.
“Come here,” he said softly, the catch in his voice betraying him.
