x
Hinges creaked.
Char sat up, alert and annoyed at having his sleep interrupted. All the aches and pains from destroying the tower until now had returned to remind him his body had its limits, and the darkened ceiling moss told him it was night above ground, too. He was dead tired, and he wasn’t in the best of moods as he scanned the room for movement.
He also wasn’t sure which door had opened.
If it was only Rath getting a midnight snack, he decided he’d punch his brother and go back to sleep.
He waited, listening, and then he heard light footsteps padding down the hallway, and his heart leaped into his throat. That wasn’t Rath’s stride.
“Iris,” he called in a soft voice, already on his feet and moving to meet her. Several fairies trailed behind her, silhouetting her in a soft golden light.
“Char? Oh—”
His tight embrace startled a gasp out of her. He felt it, and he felt her frame through the fuzzy bathrobe she wore, and he felt her thick hair brushed his arms, and a wave of relief washed over him.
“Char, you’re… Um…”
Wearing a towel, he realized. He was just wearing a towel, and although it had somehow held its position while he slept, it was still just a towel, and she was still pushing him away. He liked the sensation of her hands on his bare chest, though. He liked the adorable blush coloring her cheeks as she averted her eyes.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Had to wash my clothes. I’ll get dressed and be right back.” He tilted her chin up and stole a quick kiss. “So don’t go anywhere.”
“I—Char…”
She was so cute when she was embarrassed like this.
He released her and headed down the hall toward Rath’s room, glancing back at her when he reached the door. She was looking at him. Her flush flared brighter as she spun away, and he smirked and let himself into the darkened room.
Now he could tell Rath she’d seen him shirtless—and she’d liked it.
Not that Char had any doubts on that front. One girl had stolen his shirt at that party when he’d taken it off. She wouldn’t give it back unless he took her home. Too much alcohol, probably a stupid dare from Rath, and a night full of regrets.
He felt like punching Rath again, but this time, the urge was good-natured instead of irritated. Char couldn’t be too mad when Iris was finally awake.
So he left the immobile lump in the bed alone, and he pulled on the damp clothes the fairies had draped over the edge of the tub without feeling the chill, and then he returned to the hallway.
Iris was still standing where he’d left her in the living room. He let his eyes wander down the cascade of her thick, chestnut brown hair to the cinch of the robe’s belt around her waist, then to her hips, and further down, where the fuzzy bathrobe ended and her bare legs began. The robe was probably full length on a dwarf, but it stopped mid-thigh on her. And she had great legs.
Then his eyes reached her feet, shifting back and forth on the stone floor, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She was nervous. She’d just woken up from fighting Micah and destroying the crystal. She didn’t know where she was, and now was not the time for amorous thoughts.
“It’s okay for you to sit down,” he said, coming up beside her.
She jumped and looked up at him, eyes wide. Her gaze dropped to his chest and then skidded away, her cheeks flushing bright red, and all the good intentions in the world couldn’t keep him from sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her close. One little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything.
“Look at me, Iris.”
Her dark lashes fluttered over darker eyes as she peeked up at him. He tilted her chin up with a finger, and the golden light from the fairies scattered about the room caught and shone in the golden flecks within the chocolate brown. His eyes dropped to her lips. He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, and it fell away from her upper lip. The pink tip of her tongue emerged and slid across them, left to right across the bottom, right to left across the top. She rolled them together and scraped her teeth across her full pink lower lip.
Good intentions went out the non-existent window.
“How am I supposed to control myself around you?” he muttered, and then he crashed his lips into hers, and her soft, moist lips molded to his. Her hands rested on his chest, and when he kissed her again, they wandered up to his shoulders, and then his neck, and then the back of his head. He held her around the waist with one arm and tangled his other hand in her hair, kissing her again and again and meeting no resistance. His heart was pounding a wild beat against his ribs. She was alive, awake, and responding, and he couldn’t stop kissing her.
He scooped her off her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the sofa without breaking the kiss, and she leaned into him when he sat , her hands warm against his neck, her curves soft against him. He held her steady on his lap with one arm around her waist, and although his other hand started there, it wandered without him thinking about it. Down to her hip, following the curve to the edge of the bathrobe, touching bare skin—
She flinched and jerked back with a gasp. “Char—”
“Sorry.” He held his traitorous hand in the air, suddenly not sure what to do with it. Her hair fell in front of her wide eyes as she panted for breath, and he hesitated a moment before he reached out to brush it behind her ear.
She flinched again.
“S-sorry,” she stammered. She looked away from him and bit her lip, and it wasn’t cute this time. Her hands slipped down to his chest and curled into his shirt, and that wasn’t a turn-on anymore.
He wanted to stroke his hair, hold her close, do something to soothe her anxiety, but he didn’t know what he could do without triggering that reaction.
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s fine. I guess I just got too excited.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s just…”
Her eyes came to his, raw and vulnerable, and the pain he saw in them stabbed his heart. He put his arms around her, waiting for her to come to him before he tightened his embrace.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to you sooner, Iris. It’s over. He’s dead.”
She buried her face in his chest. “It… It wasn’t your fault.”
He held her in silence for a few moments, unsure of what else to say. She was trembling, but she still wasn’t crying, and he was starting to wish she would. Anything to let him know what she was thinking and what he should do.
“We’re in a dwarven home,” he finally said, more to fill the air than anything. “The fairies found it. Looks like the dwarves abandoned it recently. Not sure why.”
She took a deep breath. “Maybe Micah found them when he found the crystal. He lied about that.”
Char frowned. Of course, Micah had lied about that. He’d lied about everything—everything except the horrible things he had planned for Iris. All of which he'd done to her.
Char gave her a light squeeze and kissed the top of her head.
“Why are you sleeping on the sofa?” she asked in a small voice.
Why was she asking that?
“Oh, well, I was just in a towel, and I didn’t know what you were wearing, and… I didn’t want to scare you. And I wanted to watch the door, anyway.”
She pulled back from him and met his gaze, dark eyes full of desperation and longing. His heart stuttered.
“Could you come back to bed with me?”
Every thought vaporized.
“A-are you sure?”
A dusting of pink colored her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “I… I don’t want to sleep alone.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I can do that.”
She climbed off of his lap and stood, straightening her robe, and he averted his eyes from her rear and cleared his throat. The back of his neck was blazing with heat. This would be awkward.
“I don’t…” She trailed off and tried again, her eyes on the floor. “I’m not…”
“It’s okay.” He stood and took her hand. “Just sleeping. Right?”
She peeked up at him and nodded.
The fairies led the way for them. Char didn’t need their light, but they illuminated Iris’ features and brought out colors his night vision didn’t pick up. Like the red in her cheeks. The pink of her swollen lips.
Her eyes, however, were a muddy brown.
Upset? Sad? Conflicted?
The fire in the hearth was little more than smoldering embers. A few fairies stoked it while the rest turned down the covers, and the only thing Char felt with certainty was a tense mixture of discomfort and excitement.
“I-if it’s too much trouble…”
“No, it’s fine,” he reassured Iris. “Which side do you want?”
“Um, this side is fine.”
She went to the side where he’d seen her sleeping several hours ago, and he went around to the other side of the bed, careful not to look at her sliding under the covers, keeping his eyes on the ceiling after he climbed into bed. They’d slept together before, but this was different. It felt different to him, and he could tell by her hesitation it felt different to her, too.
It must have been hard for her to ask.
“I-if you’re too hot, you can, um…”
“I’m fine. You’re uncomfortable enough as it is.” And he was already playing a dangerous game without taking off his shirt. On the rare occasions when he took his shirt off with a girl around, that wasn’t the only article of clothing he took off. And she took off. One thing always led to another.
Not with Iris. If she’d been at that party when he took his shirt off, she probably would have left the room, too embarrassed to look at him.
It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time. Now, he wished he wasn’t thinking of the girl who’d stolen his shirt when he was with Iris.
He thought of how Iris’ hands had felt on his chest not long ago. She had a shyer touch than that bold girl, but he preferred Iris’ touch. And kisses. And looks. And personality.
And that was the part of her he needed to focus on if he wanted to get any sleep.
“Char.”
He looked over at her. She was lying on her side, facing him, the blankets pulled up to her chin.
“When I woke up, I didn’t know where I was, and you weren’t here, and… That really scared me.”
He looked at her shy brown eyes for a moment longer, and then he sighed and shifted closer to her. “Come here.”
She sidled up to him, and he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She snuggled into his chest and hugged him around his waist. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
He stared up at the ceiling again, listening to her breathing even out and slow, feeling her body pressed into his. The heat of their kisses lingered on his lips, and every soft-spoken word that lit a fire within him echoed in his mind.
Yeah, he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH2UtLWWDjw
