ETAN

She was there when he returned. He caught sight of her hair glimmering in the half-light from two aisles away and his chest swelled. But two steps later he was… overcome.

Her face was pinched like she was in pain.

Everything that had happened that day flashed before his eyes and Etan felt sick.

He stalked up the aisle, let her hear his footsteps approaching and she blinked, whirling to face him, her mouth open. It seemed to take her a second to recognize him, but when she did her eyes widened and she began babbling as he stalked up to her.

"I'm sorry. I had to. They were going to hurt you and I couldn't… You needed a fair fight! And I only won because you got distracted by—"

"Stop talking, Ayleth," he hissed, pulling her into his arms and took her mouth, tangling their tongues and tilting his head to take more.

She whimpered into the kiss, but arched into him, her arms thrown around his neck and pulling him in and down, so they were plastered together from chest to knees. And he devoured her. It was the kiss of lovers, the kiss of hearts and bodies already entwined. Far too much for someone so inexperienced as her, but he couldn't stop himself. He had to be as close to her as he could, had to know she was there, and real, and his.

And she bloomed in his hands, her fingers buried in his hair, clawing his scalp. She gasped and writhed and whispered pleas when he dropped his chin to kiss down her neck.

There was no thought in his head as he clasped her ass and pulled her against him, then slid his hand down to pull her leg up to hook at his hip, to tip her back against the door so she was arched up, offered to him. It was instinct to press against her and kiss her deeply, swallow her cries, and roll his hips against her to hear her breath catch.

And it had to be instinct for her too, because he knew she'd never been in this kind of clinch, never given herself even this way—fully clothed and gasping—to any man. And he was humbled. Humbled and sickened by his own selfish need.

He squeezed his eyes closed as Ayleth's hands slid down his back and she sucked in a breath when he pressed against her again. She clung, pulled at him, as if she wanted more, welcomed it. But he knew—he knew!—they had to stop. It was just… touching her was… it was air.

Shuddering, he pulled out of the kiss, just far enough to speak against her lips, to rest his forehead on hers.

"You are the most unimaginable woman," he said hoarsely. "You are magnificent, Ayleth. Do not ever apologize for it."

She whimpered again, but not with heat. When she trembled, he closed his eyes again, stopped himself pawing her like an oaf, and put his arms around her, holding her as her shoulders shook.

"I was so afraid," she said in a small voice.

Etan winced into her hair and pulled her closer. "I could have killed you. I didn't know, Ayleth, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"No!" she cried and pushed him back so they could meet eyes. "I was so scared that you would be angry with me, or… or not want me anymore if…"

He frowned. "You think I would stop wanting you because you beat me?"

She nodded.

Etan shook his head, choosing his words carefully. "I was so proud of you, Ayleth—and so humbled. What you did… I didn't deserve that."

"What are you talking about?"

He put a hand in her hair and stroked it down her back. "I know what you gave up today, I know why you did it. I… the only thing I feared when I walked away was that you had proved that I don't deserve you," he whispered.

Her face crumpled and she pulled him in again, clinging fiercely when he tried to keep speaking, forcing him to take her kisses.

Later, when he forced himself to pull away again—or risk throwing her down on the hay—she stared up at him with sparkling eyes. "The fact that you even think that just shows me how perfect you are for me," she whispered, stroking the stubble on his face, letting her nails catch in it. She beamed a smile at him. "Etan, will you marry me?"

"I'll kill any man who tries to stop me," he whispered, and took her mouth again.