Obedient, he lifted his arms and bent them, making the biceps and triceps show. Satisfied, Saleria leaned over and kissed the right one.
“There,” she said, straightening. “Now they’re even again.”
“Oh, no,” Aradin argued lightly. He could still feel the imprint of her lips, and the tingling feel of the places her fingers had caressed. “Your kisses upon on my skin are not the same as my own, you know. They are vastly superior and far more potent. My left arm is feeling sorely underappreciated right now.”
Mock-rolling her eyes, she leaned in and kissed that arm, too. Pulling back, she shrugged out of her over-vest. Saleria turned to pitch it at the clothes basket in the corner, and found Aradin’s hands moving around her waist, seeking the buckle of her belt.
“What I like about your own hair is how soft and fine it is. Like sunshine spun from spiderwebs,” he told her. He let her take the belt once he had it undone. Shifting his fingers to her locks, Aradin sifted them through the fine strands. “That is, if you’re not upset at the comparison. Most people don’t like spiders.”
“So long as it’s not trying to eat me, I don’t mind,” Saleria said. “Spiders and spiderwebs are all a part of nature, which means they’re a part of any garden, including the Grove. Little ones are not the problem. It’s the big, mutated ones that try to hunt me instead of something small and buglike—those are the ones I don’t like.”
“Then I’ll make sure they never get in here,” Aradin promised her. With her hair tugged gently out of the way, he brushed his mouth along the curve of her neck.
Shivering, Saleria enjoyed it for a few moments, tilting her head to give him more access. She couldn’t stand like that forever, though. Stepping forward, she pulled her tunic over her head, baring her undercorset. The tunic went into the basket. A glance over her shoulder showed Aradin’s hazel eyes following her every move, though he, too, had stepped back to give himself some room. As she watched, he pulled off his boots and set them on the cloak-draped chair, and followed it with his socks.
At her puzzled look, he smiled. “I’ll fold the cloak over my things, and Teral will take them into the Dark and exchange them for fresh clothes in the morning. It’s been a boon while traveling, storing everything in the Dark. No thief can steal what he or she cannot find, let alone reach.”
“That is clever,” Saleria agreed, bemused, “but what if they steal your cloak?”
“They cannot activate its powers, for only a Witch is attuned to the magics of a Witchcloak,” he reassured her. Fingers unfastening the lacings of his trousers, he shed them, adding the garment to the pile on the chair. “So they cannot get into the Dark to steal any of our possessions.”
“I can understand that part, but I meant, wouldn’t that leave you more or less naked?” she pointed out, eyes sliding down his lean body to the loose undertrousers he still wore, dyed a faded shade of soft green.
“Most of us can cast a shadow-bubble spell, wrapping our bodies in enough darkness to be able to access the Dark, and we all store a change of clothes and supplies there,” he reassured her. Moving back to her, Aradin knelt at her feet and tapped one of her boots on the toe. Obediently, she lifted her foot, resting a hand on his shoulder for balance while he gently eased it off. “Or we can simply wait until nightfall, and fetch what we need then. Let me get your sock, too . . .”
She held still while he peeled it off, and nodded. “That’s rather convenient. You make me wish I could use a similar arrangement when I travel to the Convocation.” Switching feet, she let him remove the other set. “I think I might add a second gown. Summer-weight. And just put the belt—and the knife—on the outside of the . . . ohhh. Oh, Gods . . .”
Aradin grinned. For a woman who spent most of her days on her feet, he had privately suspected it was her feet, not her knees, that would be the most sensitive part of her body. He’d still have to investigate higher, of course, but for now, he just kept kneading her toes, leaving her heel braced on his thigh. “Like that, do you?”
“You . . . uhhh . . .” She could feel it all the way up her legs, up into their juncture and beyond. “Youhavenoidea,” Saleria managed to blurt, if a bit breathlessly. She wobbled, though, not quite able to keep her balance when every little rub and caress threatened to liquefy her legs. “Careful!”
“Do you want me to stop?” He stroked gently along the arch, and firmly along the outer edge of her foot, then pulled his hands back toward her toes.