The Guild (30 page)

Except that kiss, and the four or five they had shared in quiet moments since, made everything feel different. Too warm, and too unsettling. Empty in a way. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, and about him. Too restless to sleep, Rexei gave up and got up, slipping her feet into lamb’s-wool-lined slippers borrowed from her host. By now, she could navigate her way through his suite reasonably well in the dim light provided by the barely glowing crystals in the ceiling. Only after she knocked on the door to his bedchamber did she
realize she was wearing nothing more than a thin pair of sleeping trousers and a matching loose linen shirt.

He opened the door just as she started to turn away. “Rexei? Is something wrong?”

Blushing, she turned back to him and found her gaze arrested by the sight of his naked chest. His own sleeping trousers barely rested on his hips, and he had lamb’s-wool slippers of his own on his feet, somewhat more battered and age-worn than the ones he had loaned her, but that was it for clothing. With that curtain of reddish curls just brushing his shoulders, with nothing between her and his navel but a little bit of reddish gold fuzz that led down into those sleeping pants, he looked very appealing.

He was not quite as muscular as someone who served in the militia ranks full-time, but there was little spare fat on his body, either. When he flexed an arm, lifting it to cup her shoulder, she followed the flex and play of his muscles in fascinated silence. At least until he spoke again.

“Are you okay? Is there something you need or want?” Alonnen asked her. Seeing her blush and blink, still staring at his flesh, he felt his own face heat a little. Clearing his throat, he tried to speak firmly. “Rexei,
speak
.”

“I . . . I want another kiss.” It took quite a lot of her inner bravery to admit that to his face, but she did, raising her gaze to his so that he could see she was sincere. Her cheeks warmed further, but she added, “I liked it. A lot.”

She is going to kill me. Pleasantly
, Alonnen acknowledged silently. He debated what to do about her request. He knew he wasn’t going to refuse it, but the question of
where
was important: In his bedroom there was the threat of his bed luring them into going further than perhaps she intended, but it also carried the advantage that if she wanted to get away from him, she could literally leave his bedchamber at any time; conversely, the sitting room was less likely to be
turned into something more than a mere kiss, but he would have to be the one to leave, since that was her sleeping chamber.
Which might be best, since if she asks me to leave, I need to
show
her I will.

Smiling, he tipped his head in a little bow of acquiescence. “As you wish. Shall we go into the sitting room?”

“Uh, not the bedroom?” Rexei asked.

Folding his arms, he leaned on the doorframe and wrinkled his nose. “Do you really want to risk the chance of going all the way? If all you want is a kiss, the couch would be a better place for it.”

“Uh, you . . . Um . . .” Clearing her throat, she tried again. “I mean, you don’t
want
to, ah, go all the way? I mean—do you
want
to kiss me? Not just because I asked you and you’re being nice, I mean.”

Her stammered uncertainty charmed him. Smiling, Alonnen leaned in and rubbed the tip of his long, pointed nose against her shorter, rounder one. That made her laugh and pull back with a bemused look.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“Because I do want more, but I also only want what
you
want,” he told her. Moving forward, he flicked one hand over the controls for the suncrystals, brightening the room just a little, and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, guiding her back to the blanket-strewn couch.

Embarrassed that her bedding was a rumpled mess, Rexei hurried forward and quickly twitched everything smooth. Then turned and dropped onto the cushions with a nervous smile. Alonnen eyed her, then sighed and held out his hand. Confused, she stared at it, then accepted his help back onto her feet. “Is something wrong?”

“Nope. Just a different position is needed, that’s all.” Dropping onto the couch in her place, he caught her hands and gently tugged her over to his knees. “Come on, straddle me like I’m a motorhorse. Knees up on the cushions.”

Rexei awkwardly climbed up and settled onto his thighs. His
hands shifted to her hips, then slid up to her waist and ribs. She squirmed a little, biting her lip against the sensation. Without her bindings, with just a thin linen shirt between her flesh and his fingers, she was surprised at how ticklish she was.
Or maybe it’s just the circumstances. I’ve been in tickle fights with fellow apprentices, and my fellow actors weren’t entirely shy about touching and teasing . . .

He sat up, face lifted so that his nose almost brushed her lips. Lifting his chin, he looked straight at her, letting her see his willingness and the controlled hunger in his hazel green gaze. Such boldness, his forthrightness, gave her a bit of courage. For a moment, she lifted her chin, silently acknowledging the fact this moment was in her hands, under her control. Then she dipped her head, tipping it a little to avoid the point of his nose. He tilted his head as well.

The moment their mouths met, it just felt natural for her lips to part. So did his. Within two heartbeats, what was meant to be a tentative kiss deepened into something rich and succulent, with soft nips and suckling licks. Her fingers cradled his head, buried within his soft curls. His hands pulled at her back, pressing their chests together, then slid down to her hips, snugging their groins closer.

Dizzy with the thumping of her heart, heated by each sweeping clutch and caress of his palms, Rexei lifted her head in the effort to seek some air and some clarity. It didn’t work; that just bared her throat to his hungry lips. Shifting on his lap, she found herself scooped closer by the grip of his hands on her rump. At the press of his groin against hers, at the realization he had hardened with desire, her blood rushed through her trembling limbs.

His lips nuzzled down along the neckline of her shirt, then pressed against her flesh through the age-worn fabric. The ticklishness from earlier came back in a new flush of sensation. But instead of the urge to laugh or squirm, Rexei heard herself moan softly. Her spine arched out on pure instinct as he did it again, trying to lift the modest curve of her breast up into his nuzzlings.

It wasn’t enough. Flushed with desire, frustrated by the barrier of linen, she extracted her fingers from his hair and moved them down to the buttons of her sleeping shirt. The wooden discs slipped one, two, three, out of their holes. In order to undo them, her hands had to nudge his cheeks back from her torso. Glancing up at her, he watched her face, not her fingers. She blushed at her boldness, but that did not stop her from gently easing the material back to either side.

Keeping his gaze locked with hers, Alonnen leaned in again. He had to shift his arms a little higher to support her as she leaned back, but he never stopped looking at her. Not even when his chin brushed the peak of her left breast, then his nose tip and lips.

Rexei shuddered, caught off-guard by how sensual, how sensitive, such a light touch made her small breast feel. Her breathing faltered, then quickened. Pulling back, he searched her face for a clue as to her feelings. She clutched at his shoulders to anchor herself, then gathered her courage and slid her fingers back up into his hair. Dragging in a deeper breath, she guided his head back toward her breast. Eyelids drifting shut, he gave in with a groan, parting his lips around the sensitive, pink-tipped peak.

She had no clue that her breasts could be so sensitive, so sensual. Until now, they had just been lumps of flesh, awkward and inconveniently female. But under the nibbling of his lips, the hot, wet curl of his tongue—
Guildra!
The mental exclamation was half curse, half prayer.
I never knew that . . . oh Goddess . . . so sensitive!

An unfamiliar heat twisted and threaded its way through her body, connecting her breasts—for he licked the right one as well—to her thighs and the heat building at their crux. To her arms and her toes, which curled in the slightly too large slippers threatening to dangle and drop from her feet. To her own lips, which wanted to return every touch. Except, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from those divine feelings.

“Alonnen . . .” His name was a whisper, an exhaled breath that ended in a groan. It spurred him into licking more, suckling stronger. She shuddered again under his hungry feasting, his passionate nuzzling. But when he lightly bit at one tip, she cried out, body quaking in response to the mild sting of pain and its strong thrill of pleasure. “
Ahh!
”

Her shout and jerk broke Alonnen out of his lustful trance. Releasing her breast from teeth and lips, he struggled to remember who he was, who
she
was, and how far they were
not
supposed to go. Not this soon. Not this fast. The next sound out of her, however, beyond her heavy breathing, was a needy little whimper half muffled by the way her teeth had sunk into her own bottom lip. Her next move was not to sit up and berate him, but rather to tighten the way her fingers had entwined through his hair, tugging him by his locks back to her breasts.

Willing to comply but much more mindful now of what he was doing, Alonnen heeded her silent demand for more. This time, he was aware of each quiver, each unsteady hitch in her breath. Of the straining tension in her muscles, trembling, even spasming, but not quite releasing when he lapped or suckled just right.

Bracing his left arm along her spine, he brought his right hand around to her stomach. Cupping the flat muscles for a moment, he slid his palm down, until his thumb slotted between her spread thighs. There, he pressed and rubbed lightly, inward and farther down. He had to ignore the rubbing of his hand against his own barely constrained flesh, but that was alright; Alonnen sensed immediately when the fire sparked by his goal, the little hardened nub of flesh between her cloth-covered netherfolds, jolted through her body. Fire, not just lightning, for it dragged a wave of rose-blushed heat through her flesh in its wake.

Her back arched, almost pulling his mouth off her right breast, then she straightened up a little, returning it to within reach.
Thumb rubbing, tongue fluttering and circling, he listened to her whimpers and gauged his efforts by the strain and spasm of her muscles. She was so beautiful in her mounting passion; he moaned and sucked harder, rubbed faster.

Rexei could feel it coming. She didn’t know what it was, but she yearned for it, ached for it, needed it. Her head thrashed, trying to deny it, to clear her senses, yet at the same time she wanted to shove away all distractions so that she could focus, focus . . . She heard Alonnen moan, felt the tugging of his lips, the flicking of his thumb.

It all crashed together in a bolt of electrical energy that snapped through her body and rocked all her senses. It didn’t end quickly, either, unlike a real discharge from some dynamo engine. It rolled and ricocheted through her, until she finally sagged in his grip, slick with sweat and breathing hard.

Somewhere beyond her blissful lassitude, she felt him shifting her weight in his arms. Even as he gathered her up, he twisted on the couch, turning to lay her down. She wiggled a little when he tugged at the bedding, pulling blankets and sheet out from under her lethargic, sated limbs. At the last moment, Rexei caught his hand, tugging it back to her long enough for a kiss. She smelled something rather musky yet sweet near his thumb, and blushed at the realization the smell came from her.

Touched by her kiss, Alonnen crouched carefully and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Rexei,” he told her. “If you want to do this again, just let me know tomorrow night.”

“Mmm . . . thank you. I, uh, I think I might,” she mumbled, blushing. She heard him chuckle, then shuffle off toward his bedchamber. As he left the sitting room, he swept his hand over the lights, dimming them down to near darkness. She realized her shirt was still unbuttoned and worked on fastening it with tired hands, then pulled the covers a little higher. Now that he wasn’t making her hot with his touches, she could feel the nip of winter in
the air. A satisfied sigh escaped her as she snuggled into the couch to sleep.

Alone in his bedroom, Alonnen leaned his shoulders against the quietly shut door and bit back a frustrated moan. Lifting his hands to his face, he started to scrub at his cheeks, trying to get over the throbbing, unsated ache in his groin. It was a mistake; his thumb still smelled like her passion, her satisfaction.

Giving up, he pushed his trousers down past his hips, baring himself. His fingers stroked and cupped his ready flesh for a few moments, then he brought his hand back up to his nose for another sniff. With the scent of her climax filling his nostrils, he stroked himself, hips flexing. Overheated by watching her achieve bliss in his arms, under his touch, Alonnen found it didn’t take long to achieve his own climax. Warmth coated his hands and his shaft.

Slowly sagging into the door, he rested with his legs bracing his weight against the stout panel, then sighed. Straightening, he tugged up his sleeping trousers and headed for the attached refreshing room. His own bliss would lead to a sleepy lethargy in a few more moments, and he wanted to clean up before crawling back between his empty sheets.

Another time
, he promised himself.
If she can still look me in the eye tomorrow morning, then there will probably be another time. And another and another . . . and maybe there’ll be a wedding and a wedding night between us . . . because I’m falling in love with her, and I know she won’t settle for anything less. And . . . and I’m very okay with that.

The lack of contraceptive spells—he didn’t trust the iffy potion the Alchemists Guild made—meant it was hard for couples to consummate their passions without running the risk of a pregnancy. Both of them had too much to do in the coming months to risk that.
But there is still a lot we can do without intercourse
, he thought, dampening a rag under the faucet of his sink. A thought made him lift his brows, then smirk to himself.