To her utter surprise, Niamh didn’t wake until not long before the sun was due to set again. She hadn’t expected to sleep all day, but the run must have taken more out of her than she’d first thought.
Now she was wide awake and restless as the memories of the night before played over in her mind. More specifically memories tormented her with the closeness and intimacy she’d shared with Kiyo.
She knew it would be reckless to drag her feelings into the open, but Niamh wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend that all she felt was friendship. Was it only a few days ago she’d made that impressively cold speech about them not being friends and being all about the mission?
Stuck in a lodge with him for one night, and all that floated out the window. She wanted him too badly.
And she knew he wanted her.
Stubborn wolf.
Getting quietly out of bed, Niamh pulled on a T-shirt that was barely long enough to cover her arse. She slipped out of the patio doors that connected her bedroom to the deck that ran along that entire side of the lodge.
She peeked into the living room but could only see Kiyo’s long legs dangling over the sofa edge. Niamh shook her head. Stubborn wolf. He could’ve had the bed.
Feeling only a slight tickle of the cold, Niamh sat down on the wooden lounger and drew her legs up to her chest, pulling the T-shirt down over her knees. The cool air caressed her thighs, kissed her calves, and tickled her feet. She flexed her toes, drinking in the late-afternoon sun flooding the pond and the tops of the trees. Imagining how lush and green this place must be in the summer, she almost wished they could stay for a few months so she could witness it.
There was so much peace and privacy. They could never run wild like they had last night while living in a city. It wasn’t just the closeness with Kiyo Niamh had enjoyed. She’d loved being able to expend massive amounts of energy. But also to let all her worries go and just enjoy the moment. Almost like a child at play.
Melancholy filled Niamh as she rested her chin on her knees. She’d never be able to live in a place like this. An enemy would find her eventually. That’s why she and Ronan were always on the run, always moving.
Niamh wondered what Ronan would think of Kiyo.
He’d hate him, she thought decisively.
Not because of anything he’d know about Kiyo. He’d hate him purely for having Niamh’s attention.
Her chest ached at that, but she could think such things about her brother without feeling guilty anymore.
Wabisabi, Kiyo said the Japanese called it. The appreciation of beauty in the imperfect things. Ronan was like everyone, human or otherwise. He hadn’t been perfect. He’d been very flawed. And Niamh knew he didn’t want her to love anyone other than him. Not just because he didn’t want anyone to take her from the lifestyle he strangely enjoyed but because she was the only family he had. And he loved her. He was afraid of losing her like he’d lost their mam. It wasn’t a healthy way to love. Niamh knew that. But she could forgive him because he had forgiven her plenty in return.
At the end of all things, Ronan had died trying to protect her.
He’d died for the most beautiful part of his imperfect love.
“Niamh?”
She gasped, swiping a hand over cheeks she didn’t even know were wet until Kiyo’s voice broke through her musings. Her eyes flew to the doorway to the living room. He stood there, still half-bloody-naked but this time in black pajama bottoms.
His brow was furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”
The last of her guilt had just floated away into the mountains of Japan. And it was all because of the wisdom of the immortal standing in front of her. She gave him a small smile. “Nothing. Everything’s fine. Better than fine.”
“You sure?” He strode onto the deck, making hardly any noise in his bare feet. For such a tall man, he could certainly move like a ghost.
Niamh watched him falter as his eyes dropped to her legs. Specifically the top of her outer thigh where she knew her underwear was probably visible.
Heat prickled along her skin as he halted next to the lounger, his legs almost touching hers. His dark gaze glittered in the sunlight and if she wasn’t mistaken, his breathing was uneven.
She wanted him to scoop her into his arms again and take her back into the bedroom. This time, however, she wanted him to stay with her. To lift the shirt over her head. To slip out of his pajamas. To cover her body with his.
To bury himself inside her until this damn, gnawing longing within her found some relief.
They stared at each other as if silently communicating all the sexual things they wanted to do to each other. Energy crackled between them as Niamh grew slick with the fantasies rushing through her mind.
Kiyo’s nostrils flared, and she knew as his features hardened with restraint, as his hands curled into fists, that he’d smelled her arousal. Movement caught her attention and her gaze flickered downward.
Her breath caught.
She wasn’t the only one aroused.
Her eyes flew back to his.
Touch me, then, she wanted to demand, but didn’t. Reach out for me. I’ll give you what you want.
Instead she watched Kiyo fight against his physical desires, his jaw muscles flexing.
But he didn’t move away.
In fact, his expression was challenging.
And realization dawned like a bucket of ice water.
Kiyo was waiting for her to make the first move because it meant he wouldn’t have to take responsibility for anything that happened between them. It would be Niamh’s fault.
That goddamn, fecking, furry arsehole.
Sexually frustrated and furious, Niamh threw him a dirty look, then lunged out of the lounger but in the direction of the bedroom. She slid the patio door open with enough force to break the thing, but she didn’t care, as long as a room separated them.
Blood rushed in her ears with her anger.
A strong hold gripped her biceps and then her body jerked backward in a spin. She let out a sound of surprise as her chest collided against Kiyo’s.
He crushed her mouth beneath his.
It was a deep, hungering, punishing, brutal kiss.
And Niamh relished every second of it, kissing him back with as much need and aggression. The taste of him, the heat of him … he was perfect. He was right.
He fit her.
And it wasn’t enough.
It felt like it would never be enough.
She needed him inside her.
His grip was tight around her arms as he abruptly broke the kiss. The lights in the paper lampshades flickered by the bedside.
Was she doing that?
Niamh couldn’t think.
Kiyo was glaring at her like a man starving.
She thought he might stop, and if he did, she would more than likely scream from the frustration of it all.
Yet he surprised her once again.
His head bent toward hers, his hair tickling her chin as he brushed his lips over hers. Gently. Just a whisper. The sensation was somehow more erotic than the wet, hungry kiss they’d shared seconds before. Niamh whimpered and leaned into him, feeling his erection dig into her stomach.
He pressed his lips more firmly to hers but the kiss was still soft. Slow. A seduction.
Her palms slid over his hard pecs, her fingers digging lightly into his smooth, warm skin. He groaned against her lips and as their hands restlessly caressed one another, the kiss built in tempo until Niamh was overwhelmed by the taste of him on her tongue.
Her lips were wrenched from his but only because he’d grabbed the hem of her T-shirt to whip it over her head. Kiyo’s gaze burned on her breasts as he pushed her toward the bed. Then she was falling, landing across the mattress in a sprawl of hot limbs and desperate need. Strong, agile fingers hooked into her underwear and then they were gone, cool air making her tingle between her legs. Kiyo rid himself of his pajama bottoms faster than she’d seen any man move and suddenly, he was braced over her on the bed.
Kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts, sucking her nipples.
It was a fever, a hurry, as if he couldn’t touch and taste every inch of her fast enough. Every one of Niamh’s nerve endings sparked with a sensation that was beyond this world. No one had ever affected her like this. Like they were energy connecting and crackling with impact.
Her hands roamed freely, exploring him, his strong back and the way it dipped in a valley before meeting his muscular arse, the ripples of his hard abs, the flex of his muscles in his arms. Fingers slid through his thick, soft hair, caressed his lush mouth as her own pouted into a moan when he touched that magical spot between her legs.
Her skin flushed so hot, she was sure she was going to burst into flames, her heart hammering hard and fast in her chest as he circled her clit with his thumb, all the while sucking and laving at her nipples until they felt almost painful and swollen with sensation.
“Kiyo,” she panted, climbing toward that clifftop she’d only ever reached alone—
His thumb disappeared.
She was about to complain when he kissed her with voracious, sexual intent as he gripped her thighs, spreading her to prod between her legs.
A jolt of realization hit her.
This was about to happen.
And she was pretty certain, even though she was fae, it would hurt like a mother if he just slammed into her. After all, she’d gotten an eyeful of him that night in the park in Moscow and briefly before he climbed over her just then, and he was long and thick. Very girthy.
“Kiyo!” She broke the kiss, taking hold of his face to get his attention.
Niamh shivered at the undiluted lust in his eyes.
She panted for breath, feeling him molten and throbbing at her opening and wanting nothing more than to have him inside her. “I should probably tell you …”
Kiyo trembled above her, the muscles in his arms popping with restraint. “Tell me …?”
“It’s just, it’s probably not a good idea to just … Maybe you should ease into … I’m kind of … well … you see, the thing is”—her cheeks flushed bright red—“I’m a virgin.”
Shock saturated his features. “You’re a what?”