When he did not move, she reached for his hand and dragged it across her body until his fingers grazed her back. She emitted the softest breath when they pressed against her spine.

She was killing him.

‘Is that better?’ he asked again.

And once again, she shook her head. ‘My face is cold.’

He had a physical reaction to those words.

Undeterred by his silence and lack of action, Isabel brought her mouth closer to his. ‘Your breath is warm.’

Her words hit his lips, making every inch of him pay attention. ‘Isabel—’

‘Ryder.’

He searched her face. ‘I’m going back to Chadora.’

She continued to study his face. ‘Then we do not have much time left together, do we?’

He swallowed.

‘I did not know it could be like this,’ she said.

‘It?’

‘We have not even kissed yet, and I feel all light-headed and hot.’

She had definitely said yet.

‘Every time he touches me, I want only to move away.’ Her leg moved against his beneath the blanket. ‘And every time you touch me, I cannot get close enough.’

His restraint dissolved, and he closed the gap between them, kissing her. He was aiming for gentle, but there was nothing gentle about it. The act was fuelled by hunger and frustration, and he expected her to draw back in shock, recoil, reprimand him. Then he would hate himself a little more for it.

But she did not draw back. Isabel inhaled the kiss and reached up to draw him closer. They kissed this way for a number of minutes, mutual pent-up tension working its way out of their bodies. Then the energy between them began to settle, their hands wandering beneath the blanket.

Now he was gentle.

Now he could kiss her the way she deserved to be kissed.

‘My neck is cold,’ she whispered into his open mouth.

He trailed soft kisses down her throat, warming every inch of skin with his breath, before returning to eye level. ‘Better?’ he whispered.

‘Why did you stop?’

‘You know why.’

She ran her thumb across his wet lips. ‘That was a good kiss.’

‘It was.’ He brought her icy hands to his stomach to warm them.

‘The kind of kiss they write songs about.’

He pushed back the hair that had fallen over her face and tucked it behind her ear. ‘Now the truth comes out about the kinds of books you read.’

She did not smile as expected.

‘He lost control tonight,’ she whispered. ‘In a way that shocked us both.’

‘Hodge?’

A nod.

‘Did he hurt you?’

She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

Blackmane’s body tensed involuntarily.

‘He thought he could fix it by marrying me—right there in the camp.’

It took a moment for Blackmane to process that. ‘Is that why you ran?’

Another nod before her eyes sank shut. ‘Will you sleep beside me?’

‘No.’

‘Will you at least lie beside me?’

‘No.’

Her eyes fluttered open. ‘No?’