Honor Bound Joey Hill (best new books to read txt) 📖

he didn’t see a receptacle for his lust, a dancer or a pair of hands to ease his hurts. He saw the woman she was—mind, body and warrior’s soul.

“What’s wrong?” He stroked her back. “Dancer, tell me.”

“Call me by my name.” She ripped herself out of his arms and sat up, tears pouring down her face, her head held high. “I am not Dancer. I am Amae’d’haraleen’t’Lenquisquilirian, last warrior of the Shar’d’iloned’t’Hywil.”

Eight

Amae had never imagined the capable Captain Rhiomard could look so completely

nonplussed. “Uh, say it again, slowly.”

She wiped her cheeks with her fingers. “Amae’d’haraleen’t’Lenquisquilirian,” she said, slowly and distinctly. “It means ‘Green Sapling Growing.’ I would have you know it.”

She swallowed. “And remember.”

Clear gray eyes searched her face. “Suits you. It’s a beautiful language.” The hint of a smile. “Even when you’re screaming and cursing. I am honored to know your name.” He took her hand and tugged her down. “Teach it to me, bit by bit. It’s quite a mouthful.

What did your parents call you?”

The tears threatened again. Defiantly, she sniffed them back. “Amae. You’re a surprising man, Rhio.”

He drew the bed coverings up over their shoulders. “How so?”

She hesitated, uncertain with this new intimacy.

“Go on . . . Amae.”

“I’ve never known a warrior to be so . . . so . . . soft.”

A dark brow winged up. “I think I’ve been insulted. Soft? ”

She drifted her fingers across his chest, silky-rough hair and solid muscle. “My sorrow, Rhio. I cannot think of the right word. I am a slave, a stranger. You could not know I am not an enemy. I think you thought I was. Yet you fed me, gave me clothing. You listened to me.”

“A good soldier, a good commander, pays attention always. Faulty assumptions tend to get you killed.”

“True, but you, you—” She pressed her palms to her hot cheeks. “You’re snuggling with me.”

Rhio chuckled. “Do you want to stop?” One hand cupped her breast, caressing the

smooth skin.

“You gave me my pleasure before you took your own.” There, she’d said it.

Using two fingers, he tipped up her chin. “Next time, you can pleasure me first. I’d like that. Would you?”

Unable to help herself, Amae rubbed her cheek against his thick wrist. “Oh, yes.” How she’d love to explore that magnificent body, take him in her mouth, use the bed skills she’d been taught for the sole reason that she wished to. How he’d swell against her tongue!

“Mmm. You can ride me,” he said.

On top? Her breath hitched. ’Cestors’ bones, another first. He was going to kill her, though she wasn’t sure whether she’d die of sheer happiness or pure physical pleasure.

“My name,” she demanded. “Listen carefully now.”

His accent needed work, but he almost had it right when she fell asleep on his shoulder.

Rhio woke spooned around a lithe, warm body, his cock pressed happily against silky buttocks. His eyes snapped open, battle-ready, as always.

Dancer—no, Amae—was awake, her breath too light and too regular for sleep.

Luxuriously, he ran a hand over the dip of her waist, traced the steps of her narrow rib cage and cradled one breast. He’d been right, a perfect handful, the nipple furling up tight to nudge his palm. Gods, a man could get used to this.

He judged it was about an hour past dawn. Outside the warm nest of their bed, the air was chilly, the ashes cold in the grate.

“Good morning, Amae’d’haraleen’t’Lenquisquilirian,” he said, stumbling only twice.

Slowly, she rolled over, her obsidian gaze watchful. “Good morning, Captain Rhiomard.

Did you sleep well?”

So polite. Inwardly, Rhio grinned. “Indeed, I did.” He pulled her over on top of him.

“Kiss me.”

Hesitantly, she leaned forward, her hands braced on his chest. Rhio held himself perfectly still, not helping. If he as much as moved a muscle, he’d end up shoving her beneath him and ramming himself inside where it was slick and hot and tight. No, not the best way to establish trust. Instead, aching, he parted his lips and let her play.

When she finally drew back, she looked dazed, but still wary. Ah, well. Rhio exhaled carefully. “The bath chamber’s yours, but be quick,” he said, enjoying the yelp when her bare feet hit the cold floor. Idly cradling his cock, he admired her slender, well-muscled back as she made a dash for the other room. He had plans for that mouthwatering ass.

A few moments later, she was back, leaping beneath the covers and burrowing into his body, shivering, all caution forgotten. She was such a strange mixture, part courtesan, part little girl, part warrior. He found it hard to decide which was the most dangerous.

He took his turn in the bath chamber with more than his usual dispatch, returning to bed to take her in his arms and sink into another long, luxurious kiss. “You’re getting to be good at that,” he murmured.

Amae sighed with pleasure, her cheeks pink, but when he drifted questing fingers down to pet the plump furrow of her sex, she grasped his wrist. “No.”

Rhio dusted kisses over her collarbone, the upper swell of a pert breast, while he used his fingertips to circle the fascinating separation where her cleft began, the skin so silky to the touch, so bare. “Let me persuade you.”

“No.” Her dark brows drew together, even as her moisture spilled over his fingers. She’d stopped breathing.

Shit, he was so needy, he could rub himself against her thigh and spurt like a boy. With a curse, Rhio flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t seventeen any longer; he could do this. But for the sake of his aching balls he wished she’d chosen a different way to test him. Except from Dan— Amae’s point of view, there wasn’t any other. Bed was the only place she had power over him, and that only because he

permitted it. He’d be a bastard to take it from her.

“Fine.” He rose, grabbed a pair of regulation trews, stuffed himself inside. “I’ll take you to the mess for breakfast. Then we’ll ask for an