Page 76 of Rogue's Pawn (Covenant of Thorns 1)

“Oh yes,” he murmured, easing himself to lie down to face me, mirroring my pose, but still not too close. “Flirtation is seduction with clothes on, sex without sex, back and forth. You are ravishingly seductive, Lady Gwynn.”

“You just want me for my eggs,” I teased.

“I plan to enjoy much more than that on my way to them.”

“Why me?” I asked softly. Just as I’d asked the Black Dog.

“Never question a man’s desires, Gwynn. Especially when he’s flirting with you.” He slipped the lily out of my hand and laid it between us, then lifted my fingers in his, rubbing his thumb over them lightly. “I should never have agreed to no lips.”

“It’s not your fault,” I offered generously. “You were outwitted.”

“Is that what happened?” He stared at me, burning blue. Then laid my hand back on the flower and leaned over to trace my cheek. Then down my throat, following the path of the lily. I held my breath as he stroked over the upper curves of my bosom. “Much can be done with one hand, Gwynn.” His sensitive fingertips trailed over the cotton of my dress, circling my breast. A breath shuddered out of me and I closed my eyes. “Watch, Gwynn,” he whispered, “see how you want me, too.”

His fingers, pale against my dress, gracefully swirled over my breast. Ever smaller circles, until they brushed over the painfully hard point of my nipple. I nearly convulsed in response, a sharp cry escaping my lips. I started to pull back, but his fingers closed on my nipple through the fabric.

“Resisting, Gwynn? Will you deny me what you granted?”

“Oh, please…” I whimpered, but held myself still.

“What do you plead for?” he asked, massaging the nipple with his clever fingertips.

My head spun thick and sweet. My elbow seemed to collapse and I laid my head down. I couldn’t form a response. I did want him. To my great peril.

Rogue released my nipple to resume his circling, moving to include the other breast now offered up as I lay back. I gazed blurrily at the night sky through the open flaps above, until his face moved over mine. Propped on his elbow still, he watched me, seeming to drink me in. Jet-black hair, glinting navy and rose from the pillows, fell around his face, shadowing it. A few long locks fell across the hand lying by my side. I surreptitiously wound them around my fingers, clutching at the silk of them. It reminded me not to reach up and wrap my arms around him.

I was pushing my breast into his hand now, fighting the overwhelming urge to spread my legs just a little. It had to be hardwired into women’s brains—enough arousal and we wanted to open right up.Nothing like making it easy for them.

“I’m not having sex with you,” I gritted out.

“Did I ask?” He sounded amused. He also never stopped teasing my breast. “Though if you wish to cry off the bargain, I’d be happy to oblige you.”

I was going to explode, but I didn’t think I could actually climax this way. Only endless buildup. My vision reddened and I clutched at the pillows beneath me. I should have taken my chances with fighting him off. Allowing this was unbearable.

“I can’t take any more.”

“Oh, I think you can. We’ve only just started, lovely Gwynn.” He breathed along my cheek, not quite touching his lips to me. “Do you wish to cry off?”

I moaned in despair.

“Is that a yes?” Rogue watched me, the lines of his face seeming to oscillate in the light. Maybe that was my own frantic pulse, pounding through the fragile vessels of my retinas.

“No,” I gasped, then whimpered when he increased the pressure on one breast, the pleasure keen as pain. I realized it was my left breast, Falcon’s bite marks throbbing anew under the stimulus, the pain flaring up. “You’re hurting me, Rogue.”

He frowned but lightened his touch. “Why? That shouldn’t hurt.”

I tried to sit up, but he held me still, searching my eyes. I looked away uncomfortably.

“Tell me Gwynn. Now.”

I felt a nudging against my thoughts, so I gave him the image of Falcon bending over me, his razor teeth sinking into me. Vastly easier than describing it.

“He took a taste of you?” Rogue’s voice was eerily calm, devoid of emotion. He ran his hand lightly over my breast. “Let me see.”

I sat up, clasping the fabric to my chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Think of me as a healer—I need to see if it’s okay.” Something glinted in his eyes, however. Anything I uncovered would fall under the “exposed areas portion” of our agreement. I didn’t want to find out how I’d respond to him touching my bare flesh, if the fabric-muffled version had been so intense.

“No, it’s healing fine. I can tell that much.”

---