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Summary
“Please,” he says, “no one deserved it more than you. Ser Brienne.”
Suddenly, a rush of blood goes down her back, and she feels it, as unlikely as it might sound. She’s also sure another went to her cheek because her face feels on fire.
She leans down and kisses him again, hard, her thighs moving around his sides as she presses up closer, and she needs to be out of her clothes and she needs him to be out of his, too —
When she moves back, she looks down at him. He has a knowing look in his eyes, a raised eyebrow, as if he’s daring her to take that full leap, and she can feel how hard he is under his breeches, for her, gods, for her —
“Say it again,” she blurts, her hands going to his breeches, undoing the laces.
“What do you mean exactly,” he grins, slow, not moving his hands, “Ser?”
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