“Is this what ye want, Lady Éabha? Ye want to kill me?”
Teeth bared, chest rising and falling in erratic breaths, she glowered at him, but said not a word.
“Killing me will not solve anything.”
Her arm twitched, the blade nicking his skin ever so slightly. He could feel a tiny trickle of blood rolling down his throat.
She wriggled against him, horror showing on her face at what she’d done, but he held her tight. Every curve of her pressed against him. He stared at her mouth which had gone from a fearsome growl to open shock. Lord, but she was a beauty. Everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, and everything he couldn’t have.
Her eyes dipped just enough to stare at his mouth. Without thinking, Torsten lowered his lips to hers. At first it was a soft brush, a simple slide of his lips over her warm, rage-filled mouth.
But then she dropped the knife, gripped onto him tight, her body shuddering in a sigh that seemed filled with surrender.
Torsten deepened the kiss, claiming her with one, then two, then three swipes of his tongue between the seam of her lips. Tasting her. Delving inside her delicious mouth. Dining on the thunder and fire of her nature.
Éabha clung to him, kissing him back with frantic need. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and he fisted his hand in her hair. Torsten walked her back to the wall, pressing her body up against it.
Pinning her there, though he allowed her free reign with her hands.
He kissed her until he couldn’t breath.