Noelle turned around to find Farran marching toward her, his features tight. He stopped a foot away and grabbed at her smarting wrist. Strong fingers probed with the gentleness she’d come to cherish. He chewed at his lower lip, turned her arm over to inspect the opposite side.
When he lifted his head, and his eyes met hers, Noelle’s breath caught. Annoyance didn’t create the grimness of his mouth or the deep furrow between his golden eyebrows. No, concern gleamed within those ale-brown pools. Bright enough it burned.
“Can you turn it?”
The question jarred her. She blinked to ward off the power of his unsettling stare. “What?”
Farran bounced her fingers in his. “Your wrist.”
“Oh!” As heat rushed to her cheeks, she hastened to tug her hand free. “Yeah. It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine.”
He looked unconvinced. “’Twill swell. ’Tis best if we ice it.”
As if she were some fragile doll apt to break under too much force, he moved around her carefully. Never once did his fingers stray from her skin. His hand slid to her elbow, around her ribs, then settled into place at the small of her back. As he took her free hand in his, his gaze held hers, conveying messages she couldn’t begin to interpret. Whatever they were, they possessed him, and the light within his mesmerizing eyes took on a darker hue. She shivered against the sudden wash of warmth that seeped into her where they touched. Butterflies seized her stomach. Tingles broke out in their fluttering wake, and Noelle’s pulse skipped several beats.
Dumbstruck, she allowed him to lead her into the hall. He didn’t hurry. Had abandoned his usual purposeful stride. In a manner that defied all she knew about Farran … he strolled. As if he would be content to have their walk last all night.
“Where are we going?” she asked to break the thick silence.
“To your rooms.” His rich baritone took on a rough, hoarse edge. He cleared his throat and avoided her curious gaze. “Have you practiced swords before?”
“I was on the high school fencing team my sophomore and junior year. Why?”
“You are gifted in the art.” Before he fell quiet, he brushed his hand across the small of her back.
She joined him in silence as he escorted her to the kitchen for a bowl of ice, uncertain how to react, or even what to think of this side of him he rarely let her see.
Up the stairs he led her, then through her entry and into the shadowy confines of her bedroom. There, he turned her loose and clicked on the bedside lamp. He lingered over the nightstand, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. Noelle caught the closing of his eyes before he straightened and looked at her once more. His features were normal again—an impassive wall of tight lines and stiff muscles. Whatever troubled his thoughts, he’d wrestled into place.
Immediately self-conscious, Noelle rushed to excuse him from a chore he obviously didn’t relish. “Really, I’m fine, Farran. I can take care of this myself.”
“I know you can,” he snapped. The same harsh rasp clung to his words. It scraped across her, a strangely pleasant chafe of sand and gravel that tightened her throat.
“Sit.” He motioned to the bed.
When she did, Farran retreated into the bathroom. Cabinets banged, drawers rattled. The rush of water replaced the rush of her blood in her ears. What had happened to him? Why was he treating her like a … She frowned. Like a princess?
Before the answers could take shape, Farran reappeared and knelt at her feet. He picked up her arm to examine it under the light. “It already swells.”
“Really, it’s fine.” Noelle tugged on her wrist, the heat of his fingers unbearable.
Farran held fast and shot her a scolding lift of his eyebrows.
Resisting the urge to squirm, Noelle resigned herself to Farran’s ministrations. He wrapped the ice in a water-soaked washcloth, then situated it around her wrist. His hands worked quickly, his touch light, yet laden with tenderness. Using long strands of bandage tape, he secured the loose ends and fastened the wrap in place. Precise. Meticulous—the compress fit snug around her defined bones, yet loose enough it didn’t create further pain.
Finished, he rocked back on his heels and caught her free hand in his. A smile touched the corners of his eyes. “Remove it in fifteen minutes. If you wish to bathe then, the hot water will aid further.” Standing, he gave her good arm an easy tug. “Up. I shall help you with your laces.”
She rose, bewildered by his unexpected tenderness. When he dropped her arm, then nudged it to the side, she raised her arms and twisted to give him access to her vest’s tight leather laces.
Farran stepped closer, so near the heat of his body ebbed into hers. The faint scent of woodsy-orange mingled with the aroma of the outdoors, teasing her senses into high alert. How divine it would be to lay her head against his chest, close her eyes, and breathe him in. Every fiber of her being rose in search of the contact, the comfort of his protective embrace. She needed only to take a half step more, and that pillow would touch her cheek.
Instead, she stared at his shoulder, determined to keep her mind off his close proximity. She didn’t dare be so bold. He’d laugh, and then she’d die of shame.
“Damnation,” he muttered.
Noelle glanced down to find him fumbling with Anne’s knots. She lifted her arm a tad higher, and Farran muttered something incomprehensible, the sound little more than a hiss. As he plucked at it once more, those hands, those strong fingers that always seemed to know exactly what to do, shook.
Her eyes widened a fraction.
With an agitated yank, the ties gave, and he eased them apart until the padded protection hung loose off her shoulders. Avoiding eye contact, he slipped the vest off to set it on the edge of the bed. As he moved, his body brushed against hers, sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing down her spine.
She closed her eyes to the sensation and willed her heart to cease its frantic beat. Kiss me. The silent plea rang so loud she thought he’d surely hear it. Wanting nothing more than to cure this illogical reaction, she sought distance by stepping to the side.
Farran’s hand caught her hip, refusing her escape. Firm pressure held her in place as he nudged her arm aside and ran a solitary finger along the length of her ribs. “How are your bruises?”
“F-fine,” she stammered.
The unintentional brush of his thumb against the side of her breast turned her knees into a wobbly heap. She bit down on her lower lip to silence a whimper and refused to look up into his probing gaze. If she did, she’d crumple. Her resolve would crack into a million pieces, and she’d throw herself into his arms, whether he wanted her there or not.
But the weight of his stare teased. Though he said nothing, he made no move to distance himself. Beneath the absent caress of his thumb, her nipple tightened into a hard bud. In the silence, she became aware of the shortness in his breath, the heavy rise and fall of his chest. Her body disobeyed her will, and Noelle leaned into the gentle weight of his hand. Her gaze strayed to his.
Farran’s eyes held hers. For several heavy heartbeats, she hung suspended, waiting for him to step away, praying he’d pull her in tight.
He did neither. Letting loose of his hold on her hip, he lifted a hand to push a lock of her hair behind her ear. He cupped the side of her face in his palm, and in perfect timing with the hand on her ribs, he stroked her cheek.
Words came unbidden, ignorant to her fear of rejection. “Farran, kiss me,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 24
Noelle’s whispered request snapped Farran out of his stupor. He snatched his hands away and raked them through his hair. “Nay, I do not want you.”
Instantly, he regretted the lie. Her eyes glistened with hurt, her flinch as forceful as if she had kicked him. He would have rather suffered the blow of her foot, for indeed he deserved it. Yet he knew naught else that might cease the feeling that surfaced every time he stood near this woman. If he said the lies long enough, mayhap he would come to believe them. Ma
yhap she would grow to hate him enough that he would cease to care.
God’s teeth, he knew not what to do anymore. Never had such simple contact stirred him so profoundly. His body thrummed with the need for more. His heart felt so large he could scarce claim a normal breath. And the desire that flooded through him when her body naturally responded to the touch of his thumb had lifted his cock to attention.
He did the only thing he could think of to cease the torment—he turned away. Noelle was a greater danger than any trebuchet, for she would lay siege on his heart until his faltering defenses crumbled completely. If he surrendered, if he let her through the barricade he had so carefully constructed, she would claim, plunder, and destroy.
Nay, whether it tainted her or not, the only choice he had to end this torment was to exhaust himself completely with one who demanded naught. One who knew the stakes, and held no desire for anything beyond the tariff of a handful of coin. He would go to Leah, as he had intended earlier. Spend this fruitless desire until he purged Noelle from his system.
“What is it about me?”
Her broken murmur lanced through him. At the door, he stiffened, but he dared not look back at that anguished angel’s face. One glimpse would haunt him to the ends of the world. Better to keep moving, to walk away and pretend he cared not.
Farran closed the door behind him and stared down the stairwell with a ragged sigh.
“Problems, brother?” Declan asked from the shadows of the hall.
The question was all Farran’s tormented thoughts required to clash together in a violent storm. Saints’ blood, he could not do this to Noelle. He could not do this to himself. He ached for her in so many ways he could not describe them all. She belonged to him, damnation. She was who he wanted, not some whore whose touch lacked any trace of tenderness.
He spun on his heel and shoved Noelle’s door open. The sight of her sitting on the bed, her knees pulled to her chest and slowly rocking back and forth, unwound something so deep inside him, he felt her pain as if ’twas his own. He rushed through the doorway that separated them, stepped over her cat, and dropped to his knees on the mattress in front of her. Gathering her face in his hands, he tipped her gaze up until her tear-filled eyes locked with his. “’Tis not you, Noelle.”
She tried to turn her head, but he held her steady, refused to allow her to look away. He searched her face, willing her to understand all the things she could not possibly comprehend. Words formed, but before he could master them, they eluded his grasp. What could he say to her? He did not wish her shame. Could not tolerate the idea of giving her the ammunition she would need to destroy him. If he told her about Brighid, he would have no defenses left. He could not expose himself like that. ’Twould be like riding to battle without his mail.
At a complete loss, Farran followed instinct and brought his mouth to hers. The tang of salt blended with the softness of her lips and provoked a gut-deep sigh. Heaven. Her kiss was the closest he would come to a glimpse of that promised salvation. And her hesitant response unlocked the vise around his throat. “I lied,” he exhaled. “’Tis you I want. This.”
Caught by the mesmerizing satin of her mouth, he wound his arms around her and claimed her in a hungry kiss. Every last bit of conflict poured out through the tangle of their tongues. The greedy way she welcomed him spiraled him down a path he knew he had no chance of retreating from, and Farran surrendered to the longing in his soul. To the hope he dared not feel, but could not help.
His hands slid up her narrow back to twine through her hair, and he tipped her head to possess her more fully. The sweetness of her perfume made him light-headed. Her warmth soaked into his blood. As desire sparked down his spine to tighten his body into hewn stone, a low groan rumbled in the back of his throat, and his shaft swelled to painful limits.
His. Noelle belonged to him. Innocent, angelic Noelle.
Mine.
With fierceness to match the horns of attack, the thought raged through his mind. The Almighty sent her here for his pleasure, and by all that was holy, naught would make him turn away tonight.
He trailed his lips down the fragile skin at the side of her neck to nibble at her throat. She arched into his body, her breasts stabbing through the thin cotton of his shirt and into his chest. Farran released her hair, and supporting her back with one hand, he slid the other between their bodies to cup one full mound in his palm. At his gentle squeeze, she gasped.
The sound seeped through the haze of desire that clouded his thoughts and brought sense to the surface. He could not rush her. Could not think only of his own needs and ignore her innocence. Nay, he must bide his time. Teach her the pleasures of the flesh and not behave like some uncivilized barbarian.
He steadied himself on a deep breath and rocked back to sit on the mattress. Pulling her along with him, he drew her into his lap and guided her legs around his waist. When she settled against the confined hardness of his cock, his body jerked. But he beat into submission the urge to lift his hips into hers and found the will to sit still. To give her the freedom of becoming comfortable with his body. As he plied the ice pack off and set it on the floor, he held her gaze, tried for a smile. It faltered, but broke through to lift the corners of his mouth.
She dropped her eyes, a blush staining her delicate cheeks. “Farran I’ve never…”
“I know.” To his own ears, his voice sounded hoarse.
Surprise widened her eyes. “You do?”
“Aye.” Strangely touched, Farran tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and plucked her glasses from the bridge of her nose. He set them aside, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Touch me as you wish, Noelle.”
Farran dropped his hands to her waist and gathered up the hem of her shirt. “Like this,” he whispered as he eased it over her head.
* * *
Cool air hit Noelle’s skin, prickling it with goose bumps that intensified the nervous quivering of her belly. Half of her mind demanded to know what she was doing. Why she was allowing this to happen. The other half, the portion that suspected Farran wasn’t as crazy as she wanted him to be, urged her to stop thinking. To just feel the amazing warmth of Farran’s palms as they cupped her breasts, lifted, and brought them closer together.
When he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the deep V he’d created, she closed her eyes. Just feel …
The tip of his tongue seared along the lace edge of her bra. His stubbly whiskers scraped against skin that had never known more friction than a heavy sweater. Nothing near as pleasant as the chafe of a chin, the brush of a cheek. His fingers teased, the roll of his thumbs over her taut nipples enticing enough she arched her back, wanting more.
Her womb tightened with anticipation, and Noelle clutched at his strong shoulders. Between her legs, where their bodies joined, his arousal was evident. Hard and seeking, it brushed against her sensitive nub each time he moved to trail his lips further, plunge his tongue deeper. Every absent caress sent sensation rushing up her spine. Breathing became difficult. Sitting still near impossible.
Following instinct, she pressed her hips into his. A thrill shot all the way down to her toes, and she rocked forward, chasing the unexpected bliss.
Farran feathered his lips across hers. Winding her arms around his neck, she sought the contact of his skin against hers.
“Not yet,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth. A shift of his hips distanced his lower body from hers.
Disappointment escaped with her quiet whimper. But the plaintive sound morphed into a gasp as Farran nimbly released the closure to her bra and those big, strong hands covered her bared breasts. His hair tickled across her shoulder as he rained kisses down her throat. A nudge of his head asked her to give him room, and she loosened her grasp enough to lean away. His body followed, a gentle yet insistent press that urged her onto her back. She yielded, too bewildered by the newness of feeling to think of resistance.
When those moist lips closed around her distended nipple,
Noelle’s body nearly jerked off the bed. “Farran…” Filled with blissful shock, her throaty cry cracked through the still air. Her eyes flew open, and she looked down her body to find Farran’s eyes closed. The sight of her flesh in his hands, slipping against his mouth, sent heat gushing through her veins. It pooled in her belly, spread lower to fan between her legs. She clamped her thighs together to curb the growing ache.
His chuckle whispered against her overheated skin. He lifted his lashes. Smiling eyes met hers for the briefest moment before a nip of his teeth sent her tumbling back into the bed.
Wow. Oh, wow. The night of college graduation when she’d let Alec Yates bare her down to bra and panties before he insulted her and passed out in a vodka-induced haze hadn’t been anywhere near this thrilling. In the years that followed, she’d had fantasies, but her imagination hadn’t created something like this. Something so incredibly perfect, and yet intolerable all at once. She speared her fingers into Farran’s hair, wanting more, and at the same time wanting the torment to end.
Farran complied by lifting his head. Hovering over her, he looked down, his eyes a rich amber. Though they sparkled bright, his momentary humor had vanished. His gaze dipped between their bodies to canvas her exposed skin, and self-consciousness flooded Noelle. She didn’t have a model’s body. Was too thin in all the wrong places. Bony hips, flat boobs—nothing at all remarkable as Alec had so endearingly pointed out. She looked away, unable to witness the disappointment that would flutter through Farran’s face.
“Look at me,” he instructed.
Reluctantly, she obeyed.
Farran’s gaze burned into her. He sank his hips into hers, letting her feel the full extent of his arousal. “Do you think my body would crave you as it does if you did not please me? There is naught to be ashamed of, Noelle.” He dusted light kisses over her nose, her cheeks, her eyelids. Against her mouth he murmured, “You are more beautiful than any woman I have ever known.”
The ferocity of his kiss left no room for doubt. Under it, something deep and unnameable unraveled, and the last of her insecurities fled completely. Beneath the inquisitive caress of fingers that explored her body as if he sought to read Braille, she believed. And as he drew the kiss to a close, then bent to capture her opposite breast with his mouth, he told her his sincerity without words. Each velvety stroke of his tongue, graze of his teeth, and gentle suckle took her to a place where all the insults had never happened, and she gave in to her body’s natural inhibitions.
Immortal Surrender (Curse of the Templars) Page 21
