Flame and Sparrow (Flame and Sparrow Duology Book 1)

by S.M. Gaither

“Are you all right?” he asked, after my silence had stretched on for nearly a full minute. I shifted so we were facing one another; I needed to see him. I couldn’t speak, so I simply nodded before leaning up to kiss him. It felt like the first time I’d ever done it—softly at first, my lips just barely brushing his, my breaths spilling warm and slow into his mouth, his chest rising and falling with deep, deliberate inhales. His hands gripped my hips, steadying me. His knees rose up, further pinning me in place before he took my face in his hands and pulled me deeper into the kiss. The tub quickly felt too small, too confining, for the way I needed to kiss him, to touch him, to press myself against him. He shared the same thoughts, apparently, because after a moment he stood and stepped out of the water, carrying me with him. He wrapped a towel around himself and grabbed a second one for me. He placed me on the polished countertop—warming the stone with a touch of his hand—and trailed the plush towel over my damp skin while his lips and tongue continued to tangle with mine, drying me until only a few droplets of the bath still clung to my body. He tossed the towel aside and drank these last beads of water away himself, his warm mouth pressing in and his tongue licking at the curve of my shoulder, the valley between my breasts, along the edge of my hip. Soon the only dampness that remained was what was pooling between my legs; he drank of that too before straightening, planti...