Irish Moon by Amber Scott

working.
    When he opened his eyes he found her sitting
before him, apprehension showed on her delicate features. Bow
shaped lips pressed together. Wide but dainty eyebrows furrowed
together making a crease in between them.
    “Are you feeling the effects then?” she asked
him.
    Ashlon could only nod. He opened his mouth to
speak but she shoved a chunk of bread into it before he formed the
words. His mouth salivated painfully upon tasting the soft morsel
and he slowly chewed it and swallowed. Her eyes appeared a dark
brown but he suspected they were much lighter than the dimness
appreciated. The color of honey. Honey, sweet and golden.
    A strange buzzing feeling formed in him. A
reaction to her beauty or a result of the broth, he didn’t care.
The sensation was miles away from the retched misery she’d saved
him from. She continued to feed him and he continued to stare.
    Her hair was a coppery tinged blonde and the
strands that escaped her braid curled into little ringlets. The tip
of her braid rested and swathed her hip. His gaze traced the
outline of her hip delineated by shadow and light. Ashlon reached
out a hand to touch it with his index finger but his hand fell away
weakly before hitting target.
    Breanne looked down wondering what he’d been
attempting, what fascinated him so. Finding no more than the drape
of clothing, she dismissed it as the pleasant haze of her
concoction.
    “More,” she said firmly. Obediently, he
opened his mouth for her. Breanne stifled a laugh at how readily he
obeyed. The lazy smile on his face made her belly flip over. When
his eyes locked with hers, it flipped again.
    “I don’t know what you were thinking, leaving
the cave as you did. You may not realize, but your life is in
danger and you canno’ be moving about as all that,” she said,
placing another piece of meat between his lips. The color returned
to them and she wished it had not. She couldn’t seem to take her
eyes off of his lips.
    “Apologies,” he said, a mumble. A crumb of
food spit forth when he spoke.
    Breanne stifled a laugh. He was better than
drunk and wouldn’t be wandering again for a few good hours now. She
touched his forehead to ascertain his ill health. Feeling cool skin
under her palm, Breanne nodded pertly and set about making a
fire.
    “Who are you?” the man asked, sounding so
inspired that she returned to his side and touched his cheek.
    “Shhh. Rest now. You have a long journey
ahead of you.” Then she bent forward and kissed his forehead,
giving in to an urge to feel how soft his skin was. Part of her
knew she shouldn’t be so intimate, tender. It took advantage of his
vulnerability and compromised trust. A healer walked the fine line
of trust with any charge.
    But, she didn’t regret it when her lips
pressed his skin, warm, moist with sweat. His hand covered hers on
his cheek and then touched her cheek. His fingers trembled. Breanne
inched back and lowered her gaze to his. What she saw there
startled her. Never before had she seen such intensity, such heat
in another’s eyes.
    Breanne leaned her cheek into his palm and
searched his eyes. His hot gaze trapped her, spellbound and unable
to retreat or progress. She needed to do neither, as he did for
her.
    His hand slid back and into her hair. She
covered his hand with hers, her touch intrigued by the change from
stubble to smooth texture. He pulled her gently. His lips caressed
hers, a whisper of touch, and his eyes closed. Breanne’s closed as
well and the feel of his lips on hers magnified. A dizzying hunger
for more took root in Breanne and she pressed her lips onto his,
opening her mouth. The hunger grew, spreading through her limbs,
down her belly, between her thighs.
    A shockwave tingled there when his tongue met
hers, soft and warm. He tasted sweet. His lips on hers were so firm
but pliant. She gripped his hand and leaned in for more. His tongue
swept into her mouth, jolting her with pleasure.
    She reveled in this new experience and