He chuckles to himself, his grin oozing male pride. “Then I shall write you a note.”
“What is this? Primary school? The House Master will not care if I have a bloody note, even if it is from a prince.”
His eyes widen with false innocence. “This feels more like a scolding than a ravishing.”
I tug his hair until his head falls back. “Why can’t it be both?”
He groans when I begin moving again, rocking and grinding against his hard length while his hands roam and knead. Our mouths meet and melt. Skirts are gathered and lifted. Trousers are unbuttoned and drawn down.
Scarred hands glide down my scarred back as I ease myself onto him until he fills me completely. Senan’s hum of pleasure vibrates against my skin when he captures my breast in his mouth. The way his tongue swirls and teeth tug is the most beautiful torture.
We steal breaths and steal time as I rise and fall, riding and ravishing until the strength in my legs begins to wane.
“Gods, Allette...” The wonder and awe in Senan’s eyes as he watches me makes me feel beautiful. Cherished. Loved. “You are a sight to behold.” The taut muscles of his abdomen flex as he thrusts his hips upward, meeting me halfway.
When we find our pleasure together, our heart-rending kiss muffles my cry and Senan’s deep moan. It’s a good thing this library is so large, otherwise we would’ve surely been found out.
My head falls to the crook of his neck, and I can feel the pulse at his throat pounding against my cheek. I trace the moonflower on his shoulder down to the twisting vine, wishing I could stay here for the rest of my days. “How do you think their story ends?” I ask. “The prince and the maid from your book?”
Senan gathers my hair back from my sweat-dampened face and whispers softly against my temple. “The way all stories should end. With happily-ever-after.”
Thirty-Nine
SENAN
THEN
Tuesday.
The only day of the week that feels worth living.
The only day I spring from my bed and dress before the peach light of dawn washes over the clouds below the castle balconies. The only day the smile on my face doesn’t feel forced or placating. I break my fast in my room, as has become my routine on these glorious mornings. No sense letting anyone interrupt and ruin what promises to be a wonderful day. I shower and shave, taking more time to select my clothes than I would for one of the many trivial “grand” events my brother insists on throwing. He has slipped into his role of king seamlessly, which is a blessing, I suppose, since it means he has been far too busy ruling the kingdom to worry about my comings and goings.
An impatient rap rattles my door right as I’m about to step onto the balcony.
Do I answer or slip outside and pretend I didn’t hear?
The person knocks again. When Boris calls my name, my stomach twists. What could he possibly want at this hour? Not that I intend to find out. I told Allette I’d meet her by eleven and don’t plan on being late.
The balcony it is.
The moment I step outside, Sergeant Bilson lands with an ominous thump, the shadow of his navy wings stretching over me like a storm cloud. Why is he here with me instead of tailing Aeron?
Bilson offers no word of greeting, polite or otherwise, only a clipped, “The king wishes to speak with you.”
Unlike the other guards, this one refuses to take a bribe, which is damned inconvenient. “The king will have to wait.”
“Is that so?”
Hearing Boris’s voice from behind me leaves my heart sinking. The smile I offer him is nowhere near my normal Tuesday smile. “King Boris. What brings you to my room?”
His hair is tied in its usual leather queue, and his black-on-black attire is impeccable as always. “A representative from Nimbiss arrived late last night. Seeing as he is from your future kingdom, I thought it would be prudent that you join us for our meeting.” His slashing brows arch as he lets his graze rove over my plain clothes. In my defense, it’s far easier to blend in when one is not dressed like a prince. “Unless there is somewhere more pressing that you need to be,” he finishes through pursed lips.
This feels like a test. Unfortunately, I’ve never performed well on exams. “As much as I would love to, I have a meeting already scheduled this morning. Can the representative be put off until after dinner?”
The way his nostrils flare belies his friendly tone. “Why don’t I go check for you? I am but your humble servant, after all.”
Sure, the snide comment is laced with a healthy dose of sarcasm, but it really would be brilliant if Boris could do me this favor. “That would be wonderful.” Now to lose Bilson and get my day back on track.