She leaned forward as he began to retreat, chasing his lips, chasing his body. But Kell began to move, and he pressed her down firmly against the bed with his hands. Heat rose through her, a full-bodied flush at the indiscriminate way he looked at her as he moved downward. At the attentiveness to which he paid her body, her hips, the apex of her thighs.

Neria shuddered beneath the warmth of his breath only moments before his lips touched that bud. She flinched - not with pain but with surprise - with wide, startled eyes as he paid tenderness to her clit, as he kissed that intimate part of her. As he did it again and again, and traveled further with the roughness of his tongue. She gasped softly, a faint sound in her throat that seemed tangled up in want and embarrassment at how much she desired, how wet she was from craving him.

A hand reached down, sweeping over his shoulders. Found its place in his hair, with the tips of fingernails tracing his scalp, tangling in red strands. "Maker's breath," she whispered softly against her hand. "Kell."