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"Ye dae that fer many lasses?" she teased, though her voice wavered as his knuckles brushed the bare small of her back.

He paused. When he spoke, his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers. "Only the ones who kiss like they want me tae start wars." The words were smoke and promise.

A breathless laugh escaped her just as the final clasp gave way.

The dress slithered from her shoulders like water, pooling at her feet in a whisper of silk, followed immediately by her shift.

The sudden cool air raised gooseflesh along her arms, but it was the way his breath caught that truly undid her.

His gaze raked over her with the intensity of a man beholding something sacred, lingering on the flush spreading from her chest to her throat.

“Christ, Agnes,” he breathed, his voice raw and barely tethered. One calloused hand hovered above her waist, shaking slightly, not yet touching, as if even the weight of his palm might undo them both. “Ye’re…”

The words stalled. He tried again, but nothing came. His throat worked around the silence, breath shallow and uneven. In the flickering firelight, his pupils had nearly swallowed the blue of his eyes, leaving only a thin, storm-bright ring around the dark.

“Ye’re beautiful,” he said at last, and it sounded more like a confession than a compliment.

Agnes felt the air leave her chest. She reached up, slowly, curling her fingers around his wrist, grounding him.

“Then touch me,” she whispered, voice trembling.

That was all he needed. His hand settled on her waist, the roughness of his skin against her bare flesh sent a shiver darting down her spine.

He leaned in, pressing his mouth to the curve of her throat, the slope of her shoulder, tracing the path of her collarbone with slow, deliberate kisses.

His breath was hot, and everywhere it landed, her skin seemed to burn.

She gasped softly as his lips descended lower, mapping her with aching patience.

His mouth brushed over the top swell of her breast, and she arched instinctively into the touch.

He exhaled a shaky breath against her skin, then dipped lower.

His tongue flicked over her nipple once—light, teasing—and her whole body jolted.

Then he did it again. He sucked gently, then harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak, and she moaned, her hands flying up to tangle in his hair.

Her back arched fully off the mattress, hips tilting toward him in a helpless search for friction.

Every nerve felt exposed, like her body was tuned only to him.

Tav groaned against her skin. “Gods, the sounds ye make…”

His mouth trailed to her other breast, lavishing it with the same tormenting care. By the time he kissed his way back to her lips, she was trembling beneath him, her breathing fast and shallow.

He kissed her like he couldn’t breathe without her.

One hand slid beneath the small of her back, the other splayed across her thigh, anchoring her.

Then, in one fluid movement, he guided her down to the bed, lowering her gently against the covers.

His body hovered over hers, the heat of him radiating like a second fire.

His lips found hers again, hungrier this time, as if her taste was the only thing keeping him sane. She kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers gripping at his shoulders, his back, the curve of his neck. Her thighs shifted, instinctively opening to cradle him, and he groaned into her mouth.

“Agnes…” he murmured, and it sounded like a vow.

She could feel his heart pounding through his chest where it pressed against hers, could feel the tension in his muscles, the restraint coiled tight inside him. He was holding himself back. Barely.

And she didn’t want him to.

“Tav,” she whispered, arching into him again, lips brushing his ear. “Dinnae stop.”

He slid down her body, eyes locked on hers.

“I cannae,” he whispered. “I willnae ruin ye. Nae yer name. But I’ll make sure nae man ever touches ye without ye thinking o' me.”

Her breath hitched. She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his like an anchor.

“I already dae,” she said.

Then his mouth was on her thighs, lips and stubble grazing the sensitive skin as he kissed his way inward with aching slowness.

Each touch was maddening, too light, too fleeting.

He left a trail of heat in his wake, like fire pressed into her skin with every kiss.

Agnes gasped, her fingers tangling in the sheets, her hips twitching toward him of their own accord.

“Tav,” she whispered, almost a plea.

He murmured something against her skin. She couldn’t make out the words, only felt the low hum of his voice vibrate against her inner thigh. And then, finally, his mouth was on her.

A sharp cry escaped her lips, her head tilting back against the pillow as his tongue slid over her with slow, devastating precision. He licked her softly at first, as if learning her through sensation, every stroke unhurried, every motion designed to build her higher.

Her breath caught and broke, the pleasure curling tight in her belly.

Her thighs tried to close around the overwhelming feeling, but Tav was already there, hands firm on her hips, keeping her open to him.

His grip was possessive, his thumbs rubbing slow, coaxing circles into her skin as his tongue moved deeper, more confidently now.

“Oh—gods—Tav…”

She was unraveling. Her body arched under the onslaught, hips lifting off the bed. The way he held her, the way he moved—it was too much. His tongue circled her again, then again, and every time he returned to that spot, her nerves lit up like stars behind her eyes.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t rush. Just kept worshipping her with his mouth, as if this was a privilege he wouldn’t squander, as if he had all night and would spend every second of it learning her.

Her moans came faster now, soft, broken things that made him groan in return.

He shifted slightly, his mouth sealing around her as his tongue flicked and circled and pressed.

Her hands clutched at the sheets, then at his hair, needing something to hold onto as the pleasure built like a wave just beyond her reach.

Then it broke—hard.

Her cry echoed in the room, her thighs trembling against his grip, her whole body tensing before it shattered, spiraling into release so sharp and bright it stole her breath away. She collapsed back into the bed, dazed, gasping, every inch of her flushed and shaking.

Tav kissed her inner thigh once, tenderly, reverently, then rested his forehead there for a moment, catching his breath. Agnes could only stare at the ceiling, limbs boneless, heart thundering, utterly undone.