Forget Tareek.
For once, she would take what she wanted . . . even if it hurt her in the end.
Closing her eyes, Cosmina lay back and, with a sigh, allowed herself to float. The gentle ebb and flow rocked her, pulling residual tension from her muscles as tendrils of steam curled from the surface of the hot spring. Night sounds murmured, the familiar creak of tree limbs beyond the rocks drifted on the winter wind, breaking through the stillness, holding an owl’s call high. Each noise brought her comfort, but ’twas the whisper of footfalls by the pool’s edge that made her smile.
Hmm . . . ’twas about time. Tareek had finally let him go.
With a throb of anticipation, Cosmina lifted her head and, treading water in the middle of the pond, turned full circle. Hazel-gold eyes riveted to her, Henrik stood beyond the stone lip ringing the shoreline. Without looking away, he unlaced his tunic and tugged it over his head. Her breath caught as he bared his chest. Goddess, he was beautiful. So strong and able. So gloriously made sometimes she wondered whether he was real. Another fanciful thought. One that vanished the instant he tossed one boot, then the other, over his shoulder, and started on his trews. Arousal rolled through her as she watched him strip. Despite the heat and need, her lips twitched.
Goodness, he was shameless. Without a modicum of modesty. Not an ounce of decency in sight. But, try as she might, Cosmina couldn’t stifle her hum of appreciation. The purr rolled from her throat, then across the water, welcoming him with unequaled measure. Henrik growled in reaction, and laces undone, played the tease, hooking his thumbs in his waistband, making her wait, driving her mad. Feasting on the sight of him, she licked her bottom lip and swallowed, reliving his taste, wanting his mouth on hers, so ready for him it embarrassed her.
Not that it mattered.
Shame had no place between them. Her need for him came with the territory. Was part and parcel of her surrender to him. Something she’d done willingly, without an ounce of hesitation or remorse. But as he drew the leather down his thighs, stepped over the rocks, and into the water, a pang expanded inside her chest. As it squeezed around her heart, Cosmina battled the awful rise of emotion. Despite her intentions and best-laid plans, she knew it would get messy. Letting him go. Saying good-bye. Allowing him to walk away—without begging him to stay—was going to be so damned difficult. Almost impossible now that she’d opened her heart and pulled him in, permitting true intimacy.
A mistake of terrible magnitude.
What she and Henrik shared went beyond the pleasure. She felt it, believed it . . . accepted it without question. It was about closeness and acceptance, and, aye . . . love. At least for her. Her affinity for him surpassed the physical, spreading into areas she should have guarded much more closely. Which meant she’d lied. To him as well as herself.
No regrets, indeed.
Such a stupid statement. A miscalculation that would bring her naught but pain in the end. Henrik hadn’t lied to her. Or hidden his intentions. He was a man bred for war, one who didn’t mince words. He would leave, just as he said he would. No use disputing the truth, never mind trying to change it. So only one thing left to do . . . come to terms with the fact she must let him go and that he would take her heart with him when he went.
A splash echoed, bouncing off the high rocks behind her as Henrik dove in.
Water rippled, rolling into her chest, dragging her focus back to the present and away from the future. Searching beneath the surface, Cosmina bobbed in the gentle eddy, kicking her feet, arms undulating beneath warm water—desperate for him to reach her. She huffed. It figured. Her reaction to him bordered on insanity. She was beyond need. Far too enamored with him. Foolish in every way. She ought to be retreating. Setting up emotional roadblocks with an eye to self-preservation. Instead she waited for him, torment and anticipation cascading into a sordid tangle that simply made her want him more.
Henrik surfaced behind her.
Setting his mouth to the top of her shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her into him. Her shoulder blades bumped his chest. Hard muscle flexed around her. Sighing his name, loving the feel of him, she tipped her head back. He accepted her weight, holding her close, supporting her in the water, making her heart pang as she yearned for something more. Something pure and unmeasured. Something driven by love instead of passion alone. But more wasn’t part of the agreement.
She’d seen to that when she’d settled for far, far less.
Fighting the tight knot of emotion, Cosmina swiped her expression clean and turned in his embrace. Water swirled, moving around and between them. She murmured in need. He understood the plea and, dipping his head, brushed his mouth against hers. Unable to resist, she opened wide, inviting him in, and buried her hands into his hair. The wet strands clung to her fingertips, pushed between, enthralling her as he deepened the kiss and she got her first taste. So good. Decadent. Indecent. Beyond the pale of proper behavior. Not that Cosmina cared. She licked into his mouth instead, refusing to heed reason. Henrik was here. She wanted him as much and as many times as he allowed it.
End of story. To hell with the consequences.
Caressing her beneath the water, Henrik tangled his tongue with hers. Desire flared higher, licking beneath her skin. Cosmina moaned in delight, asking for more, forgetting restraint and the looming devastation in her future. Naught mattered but him—his taste, his scent, the feel of his hands on her body. Right. Wrong. Neither factored in anymore. In that moment, he became the center of her universe, the sun, the moon, all the stars, and . . .
Gods, it wasn’t fair.
He tasted so good and felt even better, as though he belonged in her arms, and she, in his. Meant to be. The phrase tickled her senses and played with her mind. All an illusion, she knew. A ruse designed with one purpose in mind—to break her heart. But blast and damn, it seemed real, felt right, making her believe even as her more practical side scoffed. Henrik wasn’t hers. She wasn’t meant to be his. A quirk of fate had brought them here.
Naught more. Nothing less.
“Cosmina. Sweet love, I need—”
“Me too.” Holding him close, she kissed him again.
“Nay, iubita, don’t. I have to . . .” His denial lit the fuse on defiance. Baring her teeth, Cosmina nipped his bottom lip. He groaned against her mouth. “Goddamn it, Cosmina. I need to explain something. You’re not . . . oh God. You taste good. I cannot get enough of you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” An understatement of epic proportions. ’Twas so much more than that. The attraction was delicious, heated, practically flammable. “Can we make love in the water?”
“Aye, but—”
“But nothing.” One hand flat against the nape of his neck, she sent the other exploring. Over his wide shoulders. Down his gorgeous chest. Across the taut muscles roping his abdomen. A little lower, and she curled her hand around him. He sucked in a quick breath. Cosmina smiled and, showing no mercy, stroked him from root to tip. “So hard, Henrik. Smooth as silk and hot in hand. You’re ready to please me.”
“I can’t. Not yet. Not until I—oh Jesus.” Breathing hard, he rolled his hips into her next stroke, but shook his head. She caressed him again. He cursed between clenched teeth. “Mercy, love. Mercy.”
“Nay.” Pressing her advantage, she licked over his bottom lip. “I want you, Henrik . . . right now.”
“After, Cosmina,” he said. “If you still want me after, then I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it. Gladly. Without hesitation, but . . .”