Though she knew she’d have to.
What was happening between them was forbidden. There was no possible future in it. Yet instead of tempering the heat burning through her body, it only made her want him more.
His lips kissed lines of fire up her torso, then his mouth closed over the tip of one of her breasts, making her back arch. She tangled her fingers in his hair, her other hand running over the hard muscles of his shoulders, which flexed beneath her palm as he shifted to her other breast. She whimpered, the sensation of his tongue stroking her nipple spiraling down between her thighs, the need to be filled by him so intense it almost hurt.
Catching her heels around his hips, she pulled him closer, snarling in frustration as she felt the fabric of his trousers instead of bare flesh, but he silenced her with a kiss even as his hips pressed down, his hardness rubbing against her, teasing her with what was to come. What she needed to come.
Twisting her body, she rolled him onto his back, abandoning his lips to taste the lobe of his ear, her heart speeding as his fingers interlocked with hers, knuckles digging into the mattress as he allowed her to hold him down.
She heard the rapidness of his breath, felt the thunder of his heart against her breasts as she moved, her tongue flicking over the pulse at his throat before moving down, exploring the hard planes of his chest and the tensed muscles of his abdomen.
Her hands drifted to the top of his trousers. He lifted his hips beneath her, allowing her to pull them down, revealing the hard length of his cock. While he kicked away the garment, it was her turn to look up, knowing hers was the smile of a devil as she met his gaze. Then Zarrah lowered her face, taking as much of him in as she could.
He groaned as she moved, her tongue circling him until he gasped, “You’re going to break me, Valcotta, and my pride can’t take passing that front desk with less than an hour gone by.”
Zarrah didn’t stop.
Instead, she lost herself to the rhythm, to the pleasure of feeling his body shudder beneath her touch, his breath coming in rasping gasps. And only when she sensed he was at her mercy did she shift her weight upward, knees to either side of his body, not hesitating as she drove her hips down, his cock plunging into her.
Whether it was him or her that cried out, Zarrah couldn’t have said, only that the world spun sideways as she rocked against him, his grip on her ass driving her downward with more force with each stroke.
He let go of her to push himself up, capturing her mouth with his, her breasts crushed against his chest, the ferocity, the passion, unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
Tension built again in her core, rising and rising, and then his hand shifted between their bodies, his thumb finding that knot of pleasure between her legs, stroking her with the same rhythm.
Zarrah screamed, her head falling back as he drove her need for release to the point of agony.
Then her body shattered, pleasure lancing through her and bright spots of light filling her eyes. Over and over, her core convulsed so that she could barely draw a breath. She felt his body shudder as he climaxed, the pulse of him filling her, the moment seeming to last an eternity and yet be over in a heartbeat, the Maridrinian collapsing back against the bed and taking her with him.
Her softened body molded against him, her cheek pressed against his chest as they lay in the light of the flickering lamp, too spent to do anything but breathe.
Only when her heart finally slowed did Zarrah lift her face to regard him. “You could probably get half your coin back, if you wanted.”
He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, then coiled one lock of her hair around his finger. “What I want,” he said, “has nothing to do with silver,” and he rolled her onto her back. Smiling, Zarrah closed her eyes, allowing him to draw her back down into the depths of pleasure.
As if both of them recognized this would be their only night together, they slept little. Wrapped in his arms, Zarrah drifted off only a handful of times, but always the need for more would wake one of them, and they’d begin anew.
Though she’d had her share of lovers, it had never felt like this. Like she’d been made for the man whose lips consumed her, and he for her. Never had she felt such an insatiable desire that cared not for sleep or obligation or the rising threat of dawn, only for having his body against hers, in hers, his tongue, his fingers, his cock pulling her over the edge so many times she lost count.
No matter that it might be to her own ruin.
A sliver of sunlight spilled from beneath the thin fabric of the drapes, casting a line of gold across the Maridrinian’s back. Resting on her elbow, she traced her finger over a scar illuminated by the light. A knife wound, was her guess. It looked like the blade had missed the gap between his ribs, slicing through muscle instead of into his lungs. “Who stabbed you in the back?”
He exhaled a slow breath, his eyes still closed, cheek still pressed against the mattress. “One of my brothers.”
There was no emotion in his voice. No indignation or outrage or hurt that a family member had tried to kill him. Which she supposed wasn’t surprising. He was clearly of noble birth, which meant whoever his father was, he likely had a harem full of wives and more children than he could count. More sons than could reasonably be given any inheritance, which meant siblings ridding themselves of one another in order to have a chance at wealth and title upon their father’s death. “Your people don’t understand the meaning of family.”
“The men don’t,” he murmured. “But the women understand it well enough to make up for our idiocy.”
She snorted, because the women of his country were forbidden to fight. “Maridrinian women are weak.”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “They are stronger than you could possibly imagine.” Then one eye opened, regarding her from the shadows. “Do you have siblings?”
A dangerous question, given that too many details would make her identity an easy guess, as there were few senior female officers in the Valcottan garrison, and she had the highest ranking. “Isn’t ours a union resting on anonymity, Maridrina?”
He lifted one shoulder, and then closed his eyes, sighing as she continued to trail her fingers over the muscles of his back.
She found herself wanting to tell him. Wanting to reveal the truth of herself, despite the danger, because it seemed strange that she should feel so much for a man who knew so little about her. And she about him. “No siblings, but many cousins.” She leaned onto her right arm, wincing as a jolt of pain shot through it, the wound she’d taken in battle aching beneath its bandage. “My father died when I was a baby, and you know what happened to my mother. I was raised by one of my aunts.”