Selfish Is the Heart Read online

  It was her gown, she realized, and his jacket. There was no flipping up of skirts here. Too much material bunched between them, and even if he were to get her skirts past her thighs, what was he to do about his own clothes?

  With other lovers, she’d have laughed at this predicament, but such an act would send him from her. She knew it. Her body strained, too, singing with the pleasure his touch had already brought.

  “I—” she began, uncertain what she meant to say, and then he moved.

  Swift and steady, graceful, he pushed away from her to slide her skirt to her hips, where he grasped her to shift her rear to the table’s edge. Annalise gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders to keep her balance. She needn’t have worried. Cassian—her pleasure-sodden brain refused to call him Master—had her firm in his grip. He would not let her fall.

  And then, sweet Sinder’s Arrow, he was on his knees in front of her. No more hesitation. He drew his mouth over her knee and the inside of her thigh as she twitched at the sensation of wet heat against her flesh.

  He was going to—oh, sweet Arrow. His mouth found her center, that dark sweetness so long unfulfilled. He kissed her there the way he’d kissed her mouth, with skilled hunger and delicately probing tongue.

  She cried out then, unable to keep herself from it even if it should send him from her. Annalise dug her fingers into the thickness of his dark hair. Her hips tilted. His tongue found her clitoris and stroked it; his lips in the next breath tugged gently while his hands held her still despite the squirming.

  This, she’d not imagined. That he would so pleasure her, take the place on his knees. No, she’d not thought it of him, and very quickly, Annalise could think of naught else. His mouth, tongue, lips, the heat and wetness against her own heat. It had been too long without such ecstasy, and her body responded quickly. She tipped herself against his mouth.

  Now the words came, a slew of them tripping off her tongue in slow whispers of encouragement. Yes, she said. Like that. Just that way. He did what she said, and more, until she could no longer keep gathered the many glittering stars of her pleasure.

  She let them go.

  She sank into desire, consumed by it for the span of heartbeats and gasps she couldn’t count. Her fingers tightened, pulling. She thought she heard him gasp but could do naught but ride the waves of ecstasy until, shuddering, she could at last see and hear again.

  Blinking, she looked down at him. Men had smiled at her from this place between her legs. Most had crawled up her body to slide inside her. Smiling, she reached to cup his cheek.

  None had jerked away from her touch as though her hand were made of fire.

  Toquin got to his feet. His hair fell over his face. He didn’t push it away. He paused for a moment, his hands on the table to either side of her hips.

  “Your mercy. I should not have—” Voice like gravel, he cut himself off. Then, incredibly, gave Annalise a half bow and turned on his heel.

  She was faster than she’d thought she could be after pleasure had so weakened her knees, but she got to him before he’d even opened the closet door. Her hand pushed it closed as he tugged it, and he turned, back to the door, eyes wide for but a moment before they narrowed.

  “I’m warning you—”

  “What?” she snapped, fair grateful though surprised to discover she had a voice with which to challenge. Her hand pressed the door, palm flat.

  Her arm wasn’t long enough to reach around him without also pressing her body against his. He could have pushed her away. He was big enough, strong enough. She’d felt that strength in his grasp already, knew what he was capable of doing.

  He didn’t move.

  “Your mercy,” he began again, and she cut him off with a shake of her head.

  “I do not grant you mercy. What are you thinking? That you can so . . .” Ravish was not the right word, for she’d been a more-than-willing participant in the lovemaking, such as it was. “That you could perform such an intimacy without a word, without . . .”

  Annalise sputtered to a stop. Both were breathing near as fiercely as they’d been just before when he was kissing her. The heat hadn’t faded. If anything, it was greater, as she could feel the bulge of his cock against her belly. She pressed her hand harder on the door to keep him from opening it even a crack. She pressed her body to his, too.

  His eyelids fluttered. She saw it, though he forced his gaze steady so fast she’d have missed it had she not been staring so keenly into his gaze. He licked his mouth. Drew a breath.

  “How can you leave with the taste of me still on your lips?” she whispered. “How can you walk away from me without even a word?”

  “I assure you, it can be done.” His voice cracked on the words, making them a sweet lie that brought her no pleasure for knowing they were so.

  “No.” She shook her head. Leaned against him. Her own gaze grew heavy lidded, her mouth parting, inviting his kiss. Between them, the thickness of his cock grew.

  She stood on her toes to kiss him, and at the last moment he turned his face so her lips found the corner of his mouth. Without taking her hand from the door, Annalise used a fingertip of the other to press his chin. To turn his face toward hers.

  This time, he didn’t push her away.

  Chapter 14

  The knock on the door behind his back saved him. The sound of it pushed them apart, Annalise taking two stumbling steps back as Cassian turned to face the door, gripping the door handle to keep it from opening. She muttered an invective that should have offended him, but didn’t.

  “Annalise? It’s Tansy! Are you in there?”

  Desire had blurred his vision, and Cassian blinked to clear it. Annalise had backed up another few steps, almost to the table where he’d . . . where he had . . . Cassian swallowed.

  He could still taste her.

  She turned her back on him, her hands seeking the pile of books. He opened the door. Tansy, on the other side, let out a squeak of surprise. Her gaze hit him midchest, then rose to his face.

  “Oh, Master Toquin, I was looking for Annalise!”

  He stepped aside to allow Tansy to pass. His back straight, shoulders squared, his groin aching. He didn’t look toward either of the women in the room too small for three.

  “Good day,” he said.

  “Master Toquin,” Annalise began, but he couldn’t stand there and listen to the sweet syrup of her voice.

  He couldn’t look at her face, even as his tongue swept lips still flavored with her. He left. She didn’t, thank the Arrow, follow.

  The hall was crowded, novitiates, Sisters, and Mothers-in-Service all leaving the afternoon service and moving toward the dining hall for supper. He’d taken the wrong route, but kept his steps steady and swift. None stood in front of him. All moved out of the way. And if they whispered about him as he passed, Cassian made certain not to listen to what they said.

  In the peace of the yard he pumped a bucket full of icy water and plunged his hands into it, wrist deep, soaking his sleeves. He splashed his face, the water so cold it shocked a gasp from him. He spluttered, then dunked his face in the bucket.

  When he came up, he had an audience. One solemn young lad, eyes wide. Kellen. The boy held an armful of paper-wrapped packages, a delivery of some sort.

  “Sir?”

  Cassian wiped his face with his sleeve, but as it was as wet as his skin, it did little good. “Aye, lad.”

  “Are you ill?”

  “No.” Cassian’s breath blew out from between teeth that would have chattered had he not gritted them shut.

  Kellen looked dubious. “You don’t look good.”

  “Run along, lad. I’m fine.”

  Kellen shifted the packages. “Want I should fetch someone?”

  “I told you already, I’m well!” Would the boy not leave him alone?

  Kellen smiled then. “One of these packages is for me!”

  There seemed to be no way to move him along without reply. “Is it?”

&nbs