Page 198 of A Vow of Embers

He let out a harsh groan as he rolled to his side, bringing me with him. He slid his fingers into my hair, holding me in place as he fiercely kissed me, carnal and urgent, hot and sweet. He knew so many ways to kiss and tease.

To please.

He swallowed down my moans, making raw and hungry sounds of his own that I felt in my core. He slanted my head as he melded our mouths together, and his hot tongue slid inside to stroke and taste. To suckle and tantalize as it twined with mine.

My enthusiastic response had him deepening the kiss as he gripped me closer, running his hands all along my back and buttocks, reaching to grab the back of my thigh to pull my leg around his waist. I groaned as I felt the heated potency of his desire. I moved against him because I ached and needed so much more.

Then I became aware of something. A taste.

I’d been so caught up in the way that he kissed that I hadn’t realized it before. There was a very distinct and familiar flavor on my tongue.

Honey.

It took all the strength I still possessed to pull my lips away from his. “Did you drink wine tonight?”

His gaze was unfocused, hazy, and his harsh, shallow breaths made me want to forget my question. “Yes. Why?”

He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head to the side and his lips landed on my face. “Who gave it to you?” I asked, struggling to stop myself from turning back and seeking out his mouth.

“Io.”

I let out a loud groan of disbelief. I should have known.

“I already told you that I am not drunk,” he insisted as he pressed hot kisses on my cheek.

No, but he had been drugged by his sister. With the same honeyed wine that had been used at the festival of the goddess to encourage the celebrants to go back home and make their spouses very, very happy.

The same honeyed wine that I had drunk the last time he and I had almost ... I sighed. No wonder this had happened. “Your sister gave you honeyed wine. You are not yourself.”

He didn’t seem to care. He kept touching me and kissing wherever he could, inflaming me in a way that was not good. I had to keep my wits about me.

“Did you hear me?” I asked breathlessly.

“I’m fine,” he insisted and sent tingles into places where I did not need tingles right now.

“You have to stop. You’re not in control.”

“I am in control,” he said as he dug his fingers into me in a way that had me gasping. “I’ll show you.”

He was going to keep trying to persuade me. Io had told me once that the honeyed wine had been specifically designed for women—maybe it was affecting him differently.

And I quickly realized that if I didn’t do something to keep him in one spot, it would take very little for him to convince me to forget everything. He was too appealing, too desirable, too good at this.

I had to restrain him.

So I pushed him onto his back and straddled him, something he seemed delighted by.

“What would you say if I told you that I needed to tie you up?” I asked as I held my breath. Would he think that was strange?

He raised his eyebrows. “So that you can have your way with me?”

“Yes.” Apparently my request wasn’t that odd. But the images his suggestion put in my head ... I let out a shaky breath. I had to focus.

“I have a rope in the trunk closest to the washroom,” he said as he reached for my chest, and I had to swat his hands away.

Even though I didn’t want to.

“Why do you have a rope?” I demanded.