Filed To Story: The Knight and the Moth Book PDF Free by Rachel Gillig
His thumb found my chin-lifted it. He looked so exquisite to me. My shroud had never hidden any of his beauty, nor was I surprised to see it so close. Rodrick Myndacious was exquisite-
But it wasn’t that. It was the newness of his expression. There was wonder in his gaze I’d never glimpsed before, as if seeing my eyes for the first time had profoundly altered his.
He said it intently. Like he was imploring every part of me to take heed. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Sybil Delling.”
The air tasted of him. Of musk and idleweed and the distinct smell of his sweat. I breathed it in too fast-filled my mouth and lungs with it-but it wasn’t enough.
The darkness in Rory’s gaze blew wide. There was no kneeling, no wearing armor. We stood nigh eye to eye, perfectly balanced, he naked in his wonder, me in my defenselessness-and both of us in our desire.
“Don’t tell me what they look like.” I pressed onto my toes. Swallowed his shaking breath with my own. “Don’t say anything at all.”
Rory’s smeared his thumb across my lips. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”
And then his mouth was on mine.
The Knight and the Moth
UNRAVELING
He gave me thirty seconds. A heady half minute where I was certain I was the master of Rodrick Myndacious.
No sooner had our mouths collided than a moan, deep and tortured, resonated up Rory’s throat. His fingers were in my shirt, catching in the fabric, pulling it until my front was flush with his. Heat emanated from his body like he was the sun-I wanted to run my mouth up his stomach. See if he’d burn my tongue. But for now, my focus was on his lips. On dragging my own against them. On the taste.
On the dance of tongues.
The sounds coming out of him-gods. Ragged breaths that rasped louder when I pressed my teeth into his bottom lip. I kissed Rory madly, drove my hands through his hair, slammed my body against his until there was nothing but the fabric of our shirts between us.
It wasn’t enough.
I threw my leg over his hip, letting out a surprised noise of pleasure to feel the hardness of him. Rory seemed to remember himself then, his hands-the earthly plane he was tethered to.
And suddenly it became abundantly clear, for all the times I’d thrown him down, just how badly he wanted to return the favor.
He caught me beneath the thighs, fingertips pressing into my bottom like he wanted to brand himself there. He broke our kiss to look me in the eyes-to smirk-and then he was lifting me off my feet like I weighed nothing. Walking us back.
And throwing me down onto his bed.
The momentum sent the weary candle flickering, then snuffed it out altogether, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke. The only light in the room now was the quarter moon, hovering in the window.
My shirt was rucked up around my ribs. I reached under its hem-hooked a finger in my trousers.
Dragged them off my legs until I was bare.
Rory stood at the edge of the bed, waylaid by the sight of me. His eyelids lowered to half mast, and the sight of his unveiled desire made me even bolder. I sat up on my elbows. Held his eyes. Reached for my shirt.
Undid its clasps one by one.
I’d never been entirely naked in front of anyone before. Not the Diviners, not the abbess-not even in my dreams. I’d always worn the shield, the anonymity, of my shroud.
Save once. When I dreamed of the moth.
Rory did what I asked of him. He didn’t say anything at all-the room silent but for our heavy breathing. I felt it in my body when my tunic fell away and he saw me entirely bare. Felt it when his eyes, awestruck and obsidian black, roved the length of me. When the air grew heated, taut.
“Your turn.”
Rory took his lacing in a fist-ripped it free. When he shrugged out of his shirt, muscles bunching, my gaze was an eager traveler. It trailed down his neck, over the lines of his abdomen, down to his navel.
Down the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his pants.
He looked just like he had the night we’d first met. Half-naked. A mess of sweat and ungodly good looks. Only now, derision had been mastered by desire.
I bit my lip. Nodded at his pants. “Those too.”
His thumb dipped into the waist of his pants. Rory held my eyes. Grinned.
Then took his thumb back out.
“You’re teasing me?”
He shrugged.
“Not very knightly of you.”
His eyelids lowered.
“Hmm.” I pressed upright onto my palms. “What if I took them off for you?” I pulled my legs beneath me. Pushed up. Got on my knees.
His entire body flexed. The sound of air, rushing out of his mouth, was profane. I reached for his pants-
It happened fast. One moment I was on my knees, and the next Rory’s hands were under my arms-lifting me. Putting me once more onto my back.
He crawled over me, breaking his promise of silence only once. “First, you unravel,” he rasped against my ear, then pressed me into his pillows with a ferocious kiss. And I thought I must be the stupidest woman alive, that I’d spent so much time fighting with him when I could have been fighting with his lips instead.
Rory liked it.
Kissing. I could tell. He cupped my jaw, fingertips pressing into my cheeks, making my lips pucker for him. He kissed me wetly, worshipfully, and I-I was gasping. I tried to put all my eager sounds back behind the wall of my teeth. But Rory seemed to know I was made tense, denying myself, denying him, because his focus drifted from my mouth to my jaw, as if to soften it with kisses.
He kissed the column of my throat, then roved over affected skin-the bite marks the Ardent Oarsman had left. Those he paid particular attention to. Like his wet inner lip, his tongue, could undo the violence the Omen had tended me. Like he wanted more than to merely kill gods-he wanted to cleanse me of them.
Yes. Rory liked kissing.
Or maybe he just liked kissing me.
Pressing his forehead over my sternum, he laid his mouth over my breasts. Kissed and sighed over them.
I rolled my hips. Ran my pelvis over his. Heard the rush of his breath. I did that again, then once more, imagining us as knights, sparring in a yard. Sweaty and fighting, pressing and grunting in the dirt.
“Myndacious.”
I felt his lips curl into a smile over my left breast. He kissed it. Nipped it.