Page 85 of Sunder

Then why was there a part of her that wanted to?

Another breath. A pull from the bond that was him tugging at her as certainly as he had with his hands. “I would do this,” Orma answered, and showing differed from answering. She wasn’t certain how exactly, but it was.

She kissed him again on his cheek, and this time she lingered. Let her lips smooth briefly downward while she relished in the hitch of his breath, the coiling of his muscles beneath her touch.

Was it wrong that it made her feel powerful? That she could instil such reactions with so little effort on her part?

Or what should have been. But wasn’t. Because she had to talk herself into every gesture, poke it and prod it and make sure it was something she wanted to do and not just a compulsion of the bond.

It would get easier.

This was easier.

To bring her lips to his ear. To whisper so softly he might not hear at all, so that wasn’t like talking, either. “Then you’d kiss me again. Like before. You wouldn’t wait and you wouldn’t ask, because you just... wanted me.”

He made a sound at the back of his throat, somewhere near a moan.

And those hands that had been gripping hers came to the back of her head just as she’d imagined.

No.

Just as she’d hoped.

His other was about her waist, pulling her to him. Holding her firmly, with purpose, while he...

It was not the hard, quick movement that left her breathless.

Instead, it was the merest brush against her lip while his thumb moved against the back of her neck, giving tender pressure to a point she had not realised was sore.

Then one cheek. Then other. Skimming lips against delicate skin, and this wasn’t what she pictured and yet she could not possibly complain, not when her heart beat furiously in her chest as the anticipation built for when he might concede to the rest.

“I want you,” Athan murmured into her skin, and his voice was so low and deep it made her shiver all over.

And maybe...

Maybe some things did need saying.

Because when he kissed her this time, she was the one to deepen it. To pull him to her, to hold him there—to kiss as well as be kissed. She revelled in his moans, to the way his arm tightened about her in turn, holding her close and keeping her there. A willing hostage that wanted nothing more than to delight in him. But also how alive she felt.

Not a spectre floating through her own life and family.

Not a patient tucked away in a ward, half-starved because she couldn’t eat, wouldn’t eat, and the despair was so all-encompassing she’d looked at the sharp instruments and imagined terrible, hopeless things.

That didn’t matter.

Not when they were like this.

When the bond was bright and glorious. When shame and worry were shoved to the farthest recesses of her mind. She felt little shivers through her entire self, urging her closer, urging her to bury herself as close as she possibly could because nothing bad would ever happen to her when she was like this.

Of course, something must ruin it. It was easy to ignore the throb in her hip for a moment, while she shifted and tried to keep him from noticing the mounting discomfort. She was putting too much pressure on it, that was all. If she put more weight on her other leg, if she leaned toward him just so, it wasn’t so bad, and they might continue.

The bond was the betrayer, letting him feel just enough of her pain that he eased back, moving his hand to cup her cheek while he looked her over. “Orma?”

She huffed out a breath, hating that she couldn’t do as she pleased, hating that her body would not cooperate and let her feel only these new sensations. She was tired of the old ones. Of the weariness, the aching.

She wanted the tingles. The thrumming of her heart and bond. The pulses that spread and flared and consumed far too much of her thoughts. “My hip hurts,” she groused, scowling as she let her hand go to the irritating hurt, rubbing at it. She wasn’t being careful, and it gave more pain than comfort, but it was old and familiar and he needn’t look so concerned about it.

“Well.” He plucked her up in a sudden shift of movement, and she thought she was going to be placed in the desk chair while he fussed and brought her a great stack of books to peruse since he did not know exactly what she wanted.