Chapter 11

Why did that thought feel all wrong for me and Ian?

Ian was smiling, his teeth white in the moonlight and his dreads casting eerie shadows on his face. “Maybe I like to hear all the heavy stuff. Tells me where you’re coming from,” he said, and kissed me.

He tasted of tobacco and outdoor living, and his soft beard stroked my face. The beads in it tickled as they danced on my neck. I slipped my arms around his waist, where his woollen tunic bagged out over his thick leather belt, and pulled him closer, pressing our bodies together. I was pretty sure he could tell how into him I was. Even through all the layers of clothes, I could tell he was pretty interested, too.

After a breathless few minutes, we drew apart about a millimetre or so. My heart was pounding and my head felt light. “Is that a broadsword in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”