Page 46 of Changelings
I don’t know what to do,she lamented. And,I don’t know what I want to happen.
It didn’t take much thought to guess what Balar hoped for. His looks and manners were a little more polite, a little less heated than last night, but he still carried himself with the air that with one indication from her, he’d pounce.
That sense made her acutely aware of every movement. She didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. Yes, she might wish her nightgown prettier, more alluring, but she wasn’t actually sure that she’d do anything with that power had she had it. She didn’t knowhowto be pretty or alluring. She didn’t even know if she wanted to be.
I never have been before.
It was a new reality she found herself in, one she felt herself ill-prepared for.
His attention made her jumpy, and it took her much longer than usual to prepare and plate breakfast. She’d nearly burned the oats and almost added a dash of salt rather than sugar. Shekept bumping her hip on the edge of the counter and stubbed more than one toe on a chair leg.
When she approached the table with their steaming bowls, Balar was quick to reach for them, taking the bowls and her hands in his. The shock of his touch saw the bowls quaking in her grasp and nearly upending onto his lap.
Smooth as could be, he let the bowls slip onto the table while keeping her hands in his. He guided them to his shoulders, forcing Imogen to step into his space—and between his spread knees.
“That’s better,” he crooned.
It was strange looking down into his broad, leonine face from above. He wasn’t much shorter than her seated as he was, but it was just enough to make her taller than him for once. It was also the perfect height for him to wrap his hands around her waist, holding her steady.
“Did you not want breakfast?” she asked, looking somewhere over his head.
“Oh, I’m famished,kigara. Positively starving.”
Imogen’s cheeks flared with heat. He wasn’t talking about the sweetened oats.
She opened her mouth to say…something…but nothing came out. Rumbling happily, Balar took full advantage. His mouth swept over hers, lips and tongue searing as they touched and teased and coaxed.
Imogen inhaled sharply, her senses assailed by him. He was everywhere—holding her hips, taking up her vision. In her nose, in her mouth, there was only Balar.
By all accounts, it should have made her swoon. Fairytales, stories, and anecdotes were all preoccupied with the pleasurable wonders of kissing.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like it. Not really. It was that…well…it wasso muchall at once.
He was so big and dominant and forward. He pushed her, challenged her, in ways she wasn’t sure she could meet. Balar knew what he wanted—and for some reason it was her.
For now.
That insidious thought only grew louder once she’d had it, making her stomach churn.
She tried to silence it, tried to give in to his kisses as she had before. Imogen did want to know happiness and pleasure—she just didn’t know how to take them, even when they were offered so easily.
It was all just too much, too soon.
She pulled back from his kisses, trying to tell him that, but couldn’t quite get out the words. “Balar, I…”
His lips fell to an exposed patch of skin just below her throat. Nudging the shawl away with his nose, his lips vibrated with a purr against her skin as he nuzzled and kissed her chest. Her heart raced just beneath, leaving her lightheaded.
“You are so sweet,urisá. I can’t get enough.”
Imogen gasped when the flat of his tongue met her skin, licking up her throat in a soft rasp. Her whole body shivered, and she had to use her grip on his broad shoulders to keep herself upright.
“Balar, wait…”
He rumbled again, almost plaintively. He buried his nose in the hollow of her throat, taking a long pull of her scent there. Hands kneading at her, he growled, “Let me,urisá. I will show you how good it can be between us. Let me have you.”
Something between a moan and a whimper caught in Imogen’s throat. She trembled with need and embarrassment, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to say.
If she did this, if she let it happen, she’d—he’d—blood rushed past her ears, an accompaniment to the high ringing—he’ll be here another day, everywhere, all around—she burned up,frustration and need coiling tight—I don’t know what to do—his hands and tongue were everywhere, overwhelming everything—he surrounded her, enveloped her, engulfed her—she stood at a precipice, about to be lost—I don’t want to be lost—
