Eadlyn Selects

Constellation of Desire

"Eady!"

"Kile!"

His bruised face looks strangely blurry in this dim light. His eyes scan me up and down. Then he grins and pulls me in for a hug. He is in a nylon jacket and his one butterfly bandage is coming loose. I smooth it down and hold on to his elbow with my other hand.

"I was just trinking about you!" I splutter, then shake my head and try again. "Thinking. Thinking about you!" I gush.

He narrows his eyes.

"Eadlyn Shreave. You are plastered."

I grin at him and try for a wink but I use both eyes.

"It's a bonfire, Kile. You missed it. I was just there. A fun bonfire."

"Yes," he says slowly. "I'm sure it was. Now let me walk you inside. You have to be better about taking guards with you. They man the gates, but with questionable loyalty among the staff..."

"No," I wail. "I don't want to talk about how awful of a job I'm doing tonight. I just want to be a girl. A girl who had two fun dates...well, one wasn't that much fun but the other was sweet. And I kissed Ean's cheek and I think I know who to—"

"You kissed Ean?" Kile repeats in a flat voice. He ushers me through the front hall and to the second west wing parlor, appointed in greens and golds and lush ivory textiles.

"I love this room!" I cry out, as I take in the surroundings. "Remember when we'd play in here? What game? Pirates! And we'd walk on the couches like gangplanks. Until that day Lucy caught us..."

Kile pulls me down onto the jade silk settee.

"Can you believe we ran on these barefoot?" I ask, running my palm over the sinfully smooth fabric.

I begin to take off my boots, but they are way more difficult to unfasten than they were to put on.

I'm bent over fumbling with them when Kile sets his hand on my lower back.

"Eady, do you have feelings for Ean? If you don't, then you should not be kissing him. This is a messed up game, and I thought you knew it. Everything is spiraling out of control. Even you—you aren't acting like yourself."

"You're the one who got a concussion!" I spout, sitting up suddenly to face him. We are close, our noses inches from each other. He moves slightly toward me, his nostrils flaring.

I try to look at him but only succeed in crossing my eyes.

"Like now," he says, holding my chin gently and staring into my eyes. "I've never seen you drink so much and be so loose with your words. Wandering about alone...skipping meetings..."

I frown. "Wait a minute. How do you know about that?"

"Delaying the elimination as if you have real feelings for each of these—"

"I have real feelings!" I hurl myself at him, knocking my chest into his and bumping my nose on his ear. He stiffens, maybe feeling his injuries. Then he envelopes me into him, as if the perfect spot was waiting for me all this time.

I'm about to say something important, accuse him of something, but instead I get caught up staring at his lips, so moist and soft looking, so royally kissable.

He chuckles, moving his face to mine. My mouth is already open to meet his when I realize that I said that bit about royally kissable lips out loud. I blush but I don't pull back.

We cling to each other and share a hot, electric kiss. Our tongues explore, stroking with a velvet smooth give and take that I imagine mimics our deeper desires.

His palms cradle my jaw. I can feel each point of contact, the texture of his finger pads on my sensitive skin, his chest radiating heat, the feathery tickle of his hair on my forehead, the soothing scent of his familiar skin. It combines into a frenzy of want prickling through my body and setting my heart afire. I break our kiss to clumsily yank off my sweater. I throw it aside and he laughs, amusement lighting his eyes. But his expression darkens as his gaze flits down my torso.

My ivory silk shirt is the perfect, thin under-layer for a wool sweater. On its own, I suspect it is transparent. The cool fabric clings to my curves.

Kile sucks in a breath. His hooded eyes and dazed smile matches how I feel.

"Eady, what am I going to do about you?" he murmurs, moving his hands to my waist. My arm hairs rise and I tremble into him, tugging him closer. It will never be close enough, I think. Until we're locked.

He pulls me tightly against him, so that I can feel his heartbeat against my breast.

On instinct, I shift my body so that I'm straddling him, my knees on either side of his body.

I feel his body react and his faintly exhaled, "Eady," filled with surprise, desire, and restraint.

It's powerfully intoxicating. Slowly, I inch forward until we are flush. His eyes find mine. His are wide, intense, and filled with tenderness.

"Eady," he whispers again, this time right before his mouth finds my earlobe, and then he kisses down my neck, along my pulse, where he gently bites my shoulder.

I let my head fall back and he retraces his path, until he finds my mouth. My tongue finds his split lip. I grip his shoulders and pull back.

"Does this hurt? I'm sorry if—"

"No, it's all I want, Eady." He kisses me again and minutes pass while we writhe against each other. I don't think how we look or what we're doing. I just feel. This moment is the most thrilling of my life.

His hands around my waist angle me against him, and I tilt into the feeling. He groans my name. I do it again. He closes his eyes and lets me pepper his face with the kisses I held back before.

"I wanted to kiss every bruise earlier. I should have. Why didn't I?" I barely recognize my own voice, low and husky.

I thought I held power as the future queen. But right now, hearing him say my name as if he is at my mercy, feeling the intensity between us, I have never felt more powerful.

"I want this," I say against the textured skin of his jaw. It's not as bristly as Ean, but it's perfect.

Kile blinks and tries to make space between our bodies. I don't let him—I have him clamped tightly between my thighs.

"Eady," he gulps. "Let me walk you to your room, I don't—"

"Yes, you do," I say firmly, and then I kiss him with all I've got.

His palms splay over my lower back, and then cautiously skim my ribs to just below my breasts. His breathing hitches and I draw back to meet his eyes. I can see his pulse at his throat beating wildly like a hummingbird's wings.

"Eady, you are so beautiful. So strong." He kisses me, and I surge into him. His thumbs graze the underswell of my breasts. My body coils, and I want him to take me there. I need to show him how much my body wants him. Needs him. Frustrated, I groan and reach for the hem of my shirt. My body is desperate to unspool into the night like a constellation of desire.

He puts his hands over mine.

Our eyes meet. We both know there is no going back from anything beyond this. He plants one chaste kiss on my lips and then tries to scoot me off of him.

I lace my fingers through his hair and murmur, "Kile, please." Although I am not exactly sure what I'm asking for.

"Oh, God. We have to stop," he scoops me up under the armpits and moves me to the cushion next to him. We breathe heavily for minutes. I stew. He mumbles about being a gentlemen and not taking advantage.

"Blah, blah, blah," I tease, but it blends together and morphs into a dull pounding sound. "Blah, blunk, thunk, thud."

When I open my eyes, Heath is carrying me to my new room. His boots pound on the marble floor. My head bounces against his bicep, my bare feet swing wildly in the cool air. His furious eyes glare down at me, so I shut my eyes and let dreams of Kile cloud over my consciousness.