His tongue darted out, much the same way as he had before opening the box, as though anticipating all the possibilities. The cupid’s bow of his lips entranced her, his lips masculine and so very different from her own. She shivered, imaging what he might taste like, how it would feel to explore his mouth, to give her hands the freedom to roam over his body. Will he kiss me now?
Setting the plate aside, he shifted her on his lap, so her legs splayed over his rock hard thighs. Her shift rode up to just above her sex and his fingers clamped down on her backside, pushing her exposed nether bits against his jutting shaft. They both gasped at the contact. Allora arched her back, grinding her pelvis more fully against him, letting her hair spill over his hands, reveling in the heat of the moment.
His tongue traced up her neck. “My sweet Task Mistress,” he breathed in her ear. “I have never wanted anything the way I want you.” One hand slid over her leg to explore her nest of curls. She jerked in his lap when he pinched the swollen bud, desire pooling within.
“Then take me, show me what it is to love.” She panted, straightening her spine so she could look him in the eye as he continued to pet her. Nothing had ever felt as intimate as conversing while he stroked her and she ground against his cock.
His eyebrows drew down, as though he was in excruciating pain. “I want to, but not like this.”
Sucking in a deep lungful of air he pushed her away.
The ache between her legs grew unbearable.
“Cormack?”
His eyes pierced her as he stood back from the table. “Let me bathe you, Task Mistress.”
Allora didn’t understand. “Why?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw and again she got the feeling that he didn’t like explaining his thought process. The idea of seeing his naked body in the spring, of letting him touch her while they swam was enough motivation to return to the bathing chamber.
Instead of doffing her shift, Allora placed her hands on her hips and waited, one eyebrow raised in expectation. She could postpone her needs—patience was her trademark. She’d once remained in the barn for three days to catch the Bred who stole feed from the horses. Living on packets and emptying her bladder into a bucket so she did not have to leave her perch, she had eventually brought the thief to justice.
She saw the moment Cormack recognized that she would not back down on this point and smiled when he began stripping off his clothing. Her grin faded when she caught sight of the massive scar patterns covering his chest, arms and shoulders.
Cormack had not been merely punished for his pride—someone had tried to beat it out of him. With a shaking hand, she reached out and traced the lines.
“Who did this to you?”
He caught her hand and held it right above his heart. “That does not matter now.”
She held his gaze. “It does to me. The whip is meant to protect the supervisors, not abuse the work force. If you were being as obstinate as you were with me, I can understand a lash, but you should have been healed directly afterward.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will not speak of this. It wastes time, changes nothing.”
Understanding dawned. “You think it will make you appear weak.” Her throat closed up as he glanced away, confirming her suspicion. “Cormack, you are one of the strongest men I’ve ever known, Bred or Born. When someone wields a weapon and you have only your bare hands, it is not weak to lose.”
“So says the woman who holds the whip.” His hand fisted in her hair, tugging lightly, not to hurt her but to force her gaze to meet his. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be utterly powerless, to have no control over your own life?”
Clearly he knew nothing of her. “Yes, Cormack. I believe I do.”
His chest heaved, waves of raw emotion buffeting over her, like he was the stone and she floated on the pond he’d disturbed, a ripple effect she couldn’t ignore, couldn’t stop, and just had to hang on until the calm settled over them once more.
“That’s right—you are the daughter of the overlord.” He released his iron fisted grip, and cupped the back of her head. “I heard you are to be betrothed.
Is that why you planned to escape?”
She jerked in surprise that he had stood out in the hallway and listened to her. “It was a foolish thought.”
He simply stared at her and she added, “I am sick of feeling trapped because of the oddness of my arrival here. The overlord banished me to patrol the barracks rather than look at me in the great hall.”
He nodded in what she thought was understanding. “That’s why you take your meals in your room. Because of this shoddy treatment you would rather take your chances, stumbling across the Bright Side than marry? Makes sense to me. Borns treat their married women no better than they do the Bred.” His thumb stroked across her nipple and she cried out. “I wouldn’t wish that fate on you, Allora.
Not in a million lifetimes.”
He withdrew again and this time she followed, ready to strip his clothes from him with her teeth.
This nonstop teasing made her legs shake and the wetness between her thighs demanded his attention.
“Cormack, I need—”
“Shhh,” he placed a finger over her lips. “Soon, beauty. I want to relish this time and intend to savor you.”
Just as he had the meal. Allora would never last that long. The fully formed protest died on her lips though when he stripped off his pants. Her lips parted in shock as she marveled at the rod of flesh jutting proudly toward her. „ Tis as long as my forearm and half again as thick! She’d seen horses mate, as well as some of the more indiscreet Bred, but imagining that monster inside her body…. He’d rend her in two.
Gripping her chin with his index finger, Cormack raised her eyes to meet his. “Do not worry overmuch about that now. Our flesh will fit together. By the time I am through with you, you will beg to have me inside you.”
Allora could not imagine ever wanting that, no matter what Mel and some of her other Bred nursemaids had said. “Will you be angry if I don’t?”
Cormack shook his head, a small smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “No. Disappointed perhaps, but not angry.” Sinking down to one knee, he gripped the hemline of her shift and tugged it over her head in one smooth motion.
Placing his big calloused hands on her shoulders he steered her to the edge of the pool. Water lapped at her toes first and she took a step farther in, until it reached her naval. Glancing over her shoulder she saw he had closed his eyes. His feet were barely wet. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, eyes still shut tight. “I am in heaven.”
Never would she have imagined the Breds felt so deprived. She tried to envision an existence without meat or hot baths, two of her only creature comforts, and found she didn’t want to even picture it. “You may stay as long as you like.”
His gaze fixed on hers. “And you, angel? Will you stay here with me?”
“I am not an angel, Cormack. Or do you need me to retrieve my whip and jog your memory?”
Kicking up a great deal more water than she did, he moved deeper within the pool, until he could sink down behind her. “You do not hurt the undeserving. I bet you would rescue us all if given half a chance.”
Allora glanced away. “People cannot be rescued from themselves.”
His hands snaked around her and he pulled her flush against him. His bare front aligned with her naked back, his erection nestled almost between the cleft of her cheeks, but there was no demand evident in his embrace. In fact, he began massaging her tense shoulders, his movements unhurried. “They can if they truly wish to be. I believe that.”
As the tension leeched from her stiff muscles, her mind wandered. Allora still hadn’t given up on her plan to abandon the colony. Perhaps find a vacant settlement. Being on her own could not be any more difficult than being shunned by the Borns, feared by the Breds. If she fit in nowhere, then she had to carve out her own existence.