ELRETH

It wasn't that she'd never kissed a male. She'd played the games when they were adolescents, and been at the midnight parties when they'd all snuck out of their caves. But she'd never understood the appeal. Never grasped the thrill.

She'd even tried kissing males here and there as she'd gotten older, but they'd always ended up laughing—or getting awkward.

She'd thought this kind of love just wasn't for her. Or that whoever would spark it in her didn't live in the Tree City.

But this..

It was overwhelming, the feelings that erupted inside her, burst through her the moment his lips touched hers—as if flames suddenly ran in her veins. She'd never felt anything like it.

How had she missed this? historical

How had she not seen it?

Then he walked her backwards, never breaking the kiss, his strong hand stroking down her side, then coming to rest on the tree as he pressed her in and slid one of his knees between hers and pulled her hips to his.

A starburst of sensation exploded low in her belly and she gasped.

The kiss turned desperate. For both of them. A growl puttered in her throat, but there was a tenor to it she'd never given voice to, though she'd heard it in her father.

She didn't want to think about her father just then.

Aaryn took his lips from hers, his breath heavy and fast and she growled again and pulled him back to her, sucking on his tongue when he gave it.

He growled too, not breaking the kiss, and the sound trilled in her belly. His fingers raked down her back to her hips and he pulled her in harder as she arched.

She buried her fingers in his hair and tried to tilt his head differently, but he snarled and pressed her back, harder, pinning her there, his lips and tongue dancing with hers in ways she couldn't resist. Then he pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead on hers, opened his eyes and locked gazes with her.

Her breath was shallow, quick, and noisy. She closed her eyes again and tried to kiss him, tried to pull him down, but he whispered, "No, Elreth.. I have to know.."

She opened her eyes again and the world of love that was there, in his gaze frightened her. He was there.

He was so there.

He wanted her. He wanted to own her. He wanted to be everything to her that her father was to her mother. She could feel it in him, and the parts of her that weren't terrified, responded.

She arched her hips and whispered his name, but when she tried to grasp his belt-buckle he caught her wrist and his eyes flared.

And then she whimpered.

Desire flared in his eyes and he took her mouth again. But the press of him, the weight of him, the weight of what he offered—what he wanted from her—it overwhelmed her and she shook.

Panting, swallowing, she gripped his waist and pulled him in. She had to get control. "Holy shit," she breathed against his lips, into the kiss. "Is this what it's like for everyone?"

Like he'd been stung, Aaryn pulled away, searching her eyes, his brow furrowed. And whatever he saw there, he wouldn't let her pull his head back down into the kiss again.

"Aaryn, please," she whispered, her cheeks heating.

He searched her gaze and touched her cheek tenderly, but she arched into him, trying to make it about the fire.

Not the feelings.

Then he put that strong hand that felt so delicious on her skin and flattened it against the tree above her, leaning over her, his eyes dark and searching.

They were both panting.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

She could feel him trembling.

Then, when he looked like he was about to speak, about to put voice to everything, she jumped it. "Do it again," she whispered, cupping his face, letting her fingers run against the scruff, delighted when he swallowed.

But instead of kissing her again, he took a deep breath and said, "Why?"

"Because I like it, Aaryn. Do it again."

His eyes flickered back and forth between hers, a hint of something worried and sad entering them.

When he hesitated, she growled and flipped them around, pressing him into the tree, and taking his mouth. They both sucked in again, and for a moment he gave in. He put that hand to cup her neck again, tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

She whimpered again, and he snarled, flipping her around so she was pressed into the tree again, taking the hand she'd plowed into his hair and grasping it, twining their fingers. Then he lifted, extending it over her head, against the tree.

For a moment she sighed and arched back. Aaryn made a putter in his throat that she'd never heard before, but it made her shiver. The kiss deepened, but then softened.

She grabbed at him, pulled him in, but he wouldn't let her. And when she began to struggle against his attempts to slow, to soften, when she tried to press in harder, to make him take, he let her go and stumbled back, so they weren't touching at all.

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