The Last Warrior (21 page)

He could have asked her about the items stored in those caves, and about what use avowed pacifists would have for them. Instead he asked, “You said you wish you never aspired for more than the life you were born to. Why?”

“Sometimes it's better not to know there's more. You can't hunger for what you never knew you wanted.” She waved a hand at the valley, stopping short of doing the same to him. Tao had been as much of an unexpected adventure as leaving the city. “But it's too late for that. Now I'll never be able to forget the things I want.”

Tao threw one leg over the log to face her. “Like this Tassagon?”

“My, you do have an ego larger than the kingdom.”

His quick, surprised laugh rang out in the hushed night. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” She emphasized the remark with a sassy swing of her hair. “Just because I suggested kissing lessons doesn't mean I hunger for you.”

“But you do.” He lowered his head to brush his lips over hers. A slow and tender exploration.

Her tingles became a roaring blaze. “Earlier, you said it would be dangerous to think of me overly much tonight. This isn't helping.”

With a shudder, he moved back, his gaze regretful.
“Stopping isn't easy to do, my sweet Elsabeth. Take advantage of my self-control and go to bed, if you know what's good for you.”

He left her sitting on the log, burning for him, cursing the fact that she'd reminded him of their unspoken, mutual decision to not end up in the same bedroll. “I know what's good for me.” She followed him to where he was spreading out his blanket to sleep, setting his blade and the bow and arrows within hand's reach. “You are. Tao, I want you. I want to be with you tonight.”

“You've never been with a man before—” he turned to look at her “—have you?”

She shook her head. “I'd like to, though. You can teach me.” She held her breath for a heartbeat, afraid her Kurel frankness was not the right language for seduction.

But Tao let out another quiet, almost defeated laugh that gave her hope she was chipping away at his defenses. He stood, his arms hanging at his sides. “Elsabeth, you have your Kurel values. I don't want to compromise them. I've…worked very, very hard not to these past weeks.” His blunt admission and the heat in his gaze hinted at the cost of his struggle. “You heard what Marina said. I saw your shame at your Tassagon blood. Don't do something you'll regret later.”

She stepped closer. “I'm beginning to think my Tassagon blood is one of the best things about me.” Her
fingers went to the top button on her blouse, releasing it with her thumbnail.

“Great Uhrth,” he muttered as she undid the next one.

He snatched her hand. His palm was roughened and hotter than Kato's fevered brow. “I fear I'm beginning to believe your Tassagon blood is the best thing about you, too.”

The pause was deep, breathless, as if everything in the universe had stopped, waiting to see if he'd accept the honest, yearning invitation in her eyes.
I want this, Tao. I want you.

He nodded once. Then, with a very male, considering smile, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed his mouth to the inside of her wrist. “But, I also admire your Kurel blood,” he said, kissing her pulse then the heel of her thumb, his whiskers prickling her tender skin. “In fact, I like just about everything about you.”

He sat down on the blanket and pulled her with him, onto his lap. “How you smell and how you taste…” He kissed her as he spoke, working his way along her jaw to her ear. “And how every time you lift your dress and oh-so-innocently give me a peek at your legs. I like that…” His hand swept along the length of her body and slipped under the hem of her skirt. “These gorgeous, long legs.” His hot hand dipped under her knee, lifting her leg as he bent to playfully kiss her kneecap, then that traveling hand continued on, up
under her thigh and higher, his thumb swiping over her hipbone.

He lowered her to her back, replacing that clever hand with his lips. Her head spun, her body throbbing. She'd thought the Rider's spirits had been disorienting, but it wasn't even close compared with Tao's mouth on her skin. He moved dangerously close to her privates, and she startled, but he was already in retreat, maybe remembering she wasn't like his dancers. All this was new to her. Exhilarating, but still new.

He came up on his knees and grabbed her hands, pulling her upright to sit. She buried her face in the warm hollow of his neck, her arms wrapped over his shoulders. “I want you naked,” he murmured in her ear.

She trembled. Smiled. “Only if you're naked, too.”

“Oh, I intend to be. After waiting so long for this—for you—you'd better believe I won't miss lying with you, skin against skin.”

Skin to skin.

Finally.

He unbuttoned his shirt as she sat there, watching, her legs splayed on each side of his knees. Awkward in her nervousness, she helped him slide the shirt off his shoulders. Hers was not the practiced, erotic disrobing of a concubine. But if the heat in his eyes was to be believed, her tentative moves had aroused him all the same. Maybe even more so, she wanted to believe. She
wanted to be more to him than those girls. She wanted him to remember this as she certainly would.

With his hands busy unbuckling his belt, she reached up and touched her finger to the very center of his chest, the hollow between his pectorals, and slid her finger downward, tracing a scar here and there until she'd reached his hands, now frozen in the act of unfastening his belt. Her touch seemed to have had the most amazing effect. Goose bumps had appeared on his body despite the warmth of the fire, his nipples contracting as if he'd dipped into a cold pond. Fascinating. “You're beautiful,” she whispered. A beautiful man.

He chuckled, shaking his head but appearing mightily pleased. “That's the first time anyone's called me that.”

She smiled back. “I'm glad I can be your first time for something.”

Emotion played over his face, honest and raw. “You'll be a first for me in more ways than that, sweetheart. I have the feeling you'll continue to be.” He yanked open his belt, shoving down his trousers and undershorts in one sweep. His manhood sprang free, capturing her entire focus even as he discarded his clothes without a care, a man clearly not shy about being naked.

Down he came, lowering his body to lie next to her.
Propping his head on his hand, he smiled. “You're wearing a lot of clothes, Elsabeth.”

“I hope that's a complaint.”

Two fingers walked to her blouse until they found the topmost of the still-fastened buttons. The delicate pearl would have no chance against that determined hand. Yet, he didn't do as she'd expected.

He began to move his flattened hand over her blouse, finding the swell of her breasts. With the fabric between his skin and hers, he caressed her, molding one breast until it ached for more. More what? The sharp feel of his skin, his mouth. She was suddenly aching to be suckled, a craving that had never filled her mind before.

As if he'd guessed, or he'd interpreted her arching back or little mewling cries as encouragement, he coaxed one hardened nipple into his mouth, suckling her through the fabric of her blouse and the camisole underneath, leaving a chill behind with dampness when he moved to her other breast to pay it equal attention. She didn't remember digging into his bare back with one hand, or practically tugging on his hair with her other, but he almost had to untangle himself to lift up over her on all fours.

On his hands and knees, he smiled down at her. “You still have too many clothes on.”

She laughed. “All right then. I'll help remove them.” She reached for the buttons, but he stopped her.

“I need no help.” His green eyes glittered with desire and mischief. “Do you think I need help?”

“I'll withhold judgment until I see how much longer you stay naked and I remain completely dressed.”

“Elsabeth, Elsabeth.” He shook his head. “I thought you were a woman of patience.” He uttered the teasing words as his hand found its way under her skirt again, traveling under her petticoat until it stopped, cupping her mound, where she'd grown damp and throbbing. This time, she didn't jolt at his touch.

His gaze turned knowing. “You must know your patience will be rewarded.” His thumb, the very tip of the pad, found and circled over her exquisitely sensitive nub.

It left her breathless; there was no more air. His touch conjured a deep, delicious ache that swiftly built, her pulse drumming deep inside her, an urgent sensation that needed to be satisfied.

Soon.

Now. She arched into his hand and moaned.

Then his hand was gone, and he was sitting up over her, magnificent in the moonlight, a silvered warrior with an eager, boyish smile. She protested, trying to draw him back to her. “But I liked that. What you were doing.”

“I know you did.” He took each of her hands and placed them back on the blanket above her head. “I told you. Your patience will be rewarded.”

What now?
Preparing to make love had so far been a lovely, delicious surprise, nothing like what she'd thought. She'd read her share of romantic books, spoken openly with other, more experienced women, and had come to the expectation that her first experience would be sweet and over quickly. Enjoyable, yes, but gone too fast, like a slice of fruit pie in summer, devoured. But this…it was a long, sensual, feast, every moment drawn out and savored.

“This is getting in the way,” Tao said and reached for the buttons of her blouse. As she smiled up at him, he undid the next button and slowly made his way down the row to the hem, as she lay there helpless to do anything but watch. When she did try, he'd shake his head with mock exasperation and place her hands back by her head.

With the utmost of care, he opened her blouse, then unlaced her camisole, her breath hitching as he exposed her to the cool air. He admired her with hungry eyes and leaned down to tug at the lacy strap of her undergarment with his teeth. “I do like Kurel unmentionables. Dainty. Far better looking on you than hanging in that shop.”

“Is my patience to be rewarded?” she whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He laughed quietly. “Like you won't believe.” He leaned down closer. “Mine, too,” he promised and captured her mouth, the kiss hungry,
their hands searching, stroking, her legs coming up to hold him close.

“Wait,” he said after a long while, sounding as if he'd run a mile. “There's more work to be done.”

“What? This is like work? I suppose, if you're making a
deliberate effort
.”

He answered with a darkly amused glance. She'd not let him forget his ridiculous views on love and marriage. “If you're not going to be patient, Elsabeth…”

“I will.” She went still, every inch of her straining for his touch, craving him. Despite the night air, perspiration had dampened her skin. And his, as well. He was engorged, fully erect, yet he was so…in control. How did he manage it? Then she remembered this was the same man who'd pulled himself out of a moat in the throes of agony. Self-control, self-discipline, was something he possessed in spades.

Acting as if he were enjoying every new inch of skin bared, he unfastened her skirt, throwing it off and away. Together they stripped off the remaining under-garments. Her reward, another kiss, his hands angling her head to kiss her long and well. Warm skin, his scent, the scrape of his whispers, the bulge of muscle moving under smooth skin—she savored him, every taste, every touch. Then he was caressing her again, between her legs, a purposeful but gentle circling.

The luscious pressure built, a quickening, and she knew this time he wouldn't stop. He prolonged the
pleasure, ignoring her pleas for completion, for consummation, her moans and arching hips all the cues he seemed to need, until he gently thrust his fingers inside her and the building tension finally shattered, her body squeezing, pulsing.

He caught her soft cry with his mouth, soothing her, praising her. “I want you so badly, Elsabeth,” he murmured in her ear, releasing more quivers inside her. “More than you can know.”

She whispered back, “Then let me know.”

He laughed as he lifted up over her, his shoulders bunched, his back tight and hard and moist with sweat. With his knee he coaxed her thighs apart. “We will go very, very slow.”

“Not too slow…”

“Patience,” he said, “will be rewarded.”

His hard body trembled, muscles shifting as he bore his weight on his arms to enter her body, one exhilarating inch at a time, until he was fully inside her. A luscious, complete, indescribable fullness. She was shaking, inside and out.

“Mercy,” she whispered.

“Are you all right?” His voice sounded strained. Thicker.

“By the arks, yes. I had no idea it was this good…”

“It gets better,” he promised.

And it did. Her breath hitched as he began to move his hips, a deep, slow, rolling motion. He made love
to her with banked passion, and the more he moved, the more she wanted him; with each measured stroke, her body responded.

“Ah, Beth,” he said, tightly. “You were worth the wait.”

He kissed her, long and hard, seeming to lose himself in her for a moment, becoming more passionate, fevered. Then his body shook as he tried to rein himself in, his muscles bunching in his effort to hold back.

But she didn't want him acting as if she was fragile. He was the epitome of self-control in all things.
Please, not with me, Tao.
“Don't stop,” she whispered.

“You'll be sore.”

She protested, but he kissed her into silence. “No,” he said. “Next time, or the time after that.”

Tao was determined to hold fast to that promise. Fists clenched atop the blanket, he fought to hold off the explosion he knew was coming. He didn't want to make her sore. Already his loins had begun to clench with the heavy, potent pleasure-pain he knew preceded release. He locked his jaw, wanting to give her what he'd never given any other, his whole self, not just his body and experience. Only with her did he crave such a bond that seemed to rise above the joy of physical sex somehow, turning it into something far more.