“I’m cold.”
“Then put on some feckin’ clothes.”
I patted the space beside me. “Come over here and warm me up.”
“I won’t touch you when you’re this drunk.”
When I scooted closer, he gave an exasperated sigh.
“You don’t have to touch me.” That didn’t mean I couldn’t touch him. I slid a hand beneath the covers, finding him hard and waiting. His harsh intake of breath when I gripped his rigid length left me grinning.
“Aveen,” he groaned, screwing his eyes shut.
I started slow, thinking of the way his hips moved when he was inside me. “Hmmm?”
Rían’s fingers slipped around my wrist, stilling my hand, drawing me away despite my whimpered protest. “I am going to make your life hell in the morning.”
* * *
Something tickled my cheek. A draft? An annoying fly? A rustling leaf?
It happened again, and I brushed it away. I’d been having the most fantastic dream. Rían and I were about to make love on the beach and—
Something flicked my nose. Hard.
A handsome prince grinned at me from the next pillow over. “Good morning.”
Soft sunlight trickled through the curtainless window, highlighting his toned chest and that mysterious scar.
“Leave me alone.” I stole the covers falling around his midriff, wrapping myself into a warm, snuggly, cinnamon cocoon, content to stay right here all day.
He flicked my nose again. “Not a feckin’ hope. Wake up.”
“I don’t want to.” Rubbing my sore nose, I turned my back to him, the movement making the room tilt and spin.
“And I don’t care.” Warm hands slipped around my bare waist, pulling me so our bodies aligned. Soft, warm kisses danced along my neck. “The sun is shining, and we are going out for a long, strenuous hike. At least ten miles.”
A ten-mile hike? That sounded like hell.
I had a better idea.
A smile crept over my lips as I rolled my hips. Rían’s soft curse left me giggling until the bastard flicked my nose a third time.
“Ouch! That hurts.”
“Fair’s fair. You torture me, I torture you.”
Arching my back in a slow, languid stretch, I reached my arms toward the headboard, making sure the covers slipped to my navel.
Groaning, Rían palmed my breast, then whispered, “Out of bed, hungover Aveen. There’s walking to be done.”
I couldn’t tell if we did ten miles or not, but it certainly felt like it. It was more of a coastline stroll than the hike he’d threatened, with my irritating prince showing not a bit of sympathy for my sore head and sick stomach.
By the time we returned to the castle, I could barely lift my legs. Rían had pretended to be Ruairi the entire time, and with the extra-long legs, I had to work double time to keep up with his mile-long strides.
At dinner, I ate an entire plate of braised pork and roast potatoes, while a green-faced Tadhg moaned and groaned at the head of the table. Ruairi looked no worse for wear, laughing and teasing the sick prince. I had a feeling I would’ve been the same if Rían hadn’t forced me out of bed that morning.
That evening, Rían shifted me a hot bath, left a jug of water on the bedside table, and told me to get some rest.