Stamps a hard kiss to my lower lip.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.
Before I can tell him that, he kisses me again. Harder.Sloppier. Right on the corner of my upper lip. What in the?—?
Senan attacks with rapid-fire, wet, sloppy kisses all over my lips, my chin, my cheek, even my nose. Laughter bubbles up inside of me, and I fall back on the mattress to escape the assault, scrubbing his slobber from my face with my sleeve. “What in heaven’s name was that?” I somehow manage between giggles.
His deep, rumbling laughter warms my soul as he falls down beside me and presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I cracked from the pressure.”
The funny thing is, as far as first kisses go, it actually wasn’t my worst.
Senan rolls toward me, tucking his face into my neck as if he is truly horrified by his behavior. My body goes completely still. I can feel him smiling. The delicate fan of his breaths prickles my skin. “Will you let me try again?” he whispers, his voice low, full of dark, sinful promise as his nose glides up and down my throat.
Heat pools between my thighs when I feel the soft flick of his tongue over my pulse. He does it a second time, groaning quietly as if he likes the way I taste. A heavy hand stretches across my stomach. Long fingers curve around my hip.
My breath catches in my throat when he nips at my jaw. Sensations I have never felt before zing through my blood, igniting a fire inside me until I can no longer resist turning my head, finding his heated gaze, and watching as he claims my lips with his.
Call me naïve. Call me a fool. But that is what his kiss feels like: a silent claim. A steadfast promise.
Senan Vale is a cartographer learning the lay of the land, mapping every dip and crease. An artist, molding and shaping me to his whims. A powerful prince, commanding me with each heart-rending sweep of his tongue.
He is slow destruction and utter devastation, and when his thorough exploration ends, I realize what it means to be utterly ruined for any other man.
Senan arches an arrogant brow, his own cheeks flushed and eyes laced with darkness. “Well?”
How can he expect me to have a coherent response tothat?
If someone were to draw a picture of “male pride,” it would look exactly like Senan’s face in this very moment. “Let the record reflect that I have rendered the woman who has an opinion on everything completely speechless with my epic kissing skills.”
I press my cool hand to my overwarm forehead.
Epic indeed.
And I must say, this makes me wonder what else Senan Vale is good at.
Sixteen
SENAN
My breaths sawin and out, rippling the blood pooling from my wounds. Instead of fighting my impending death, I welcome it. The last thing I see before my eyes close forever is the warrior who slayed me, lifting his weapon, preparing for the killing blow.
“Senan!” a voice squeaks. “You’re gonna be killed for bleeding all over the rug!”
Sure enough, my “blood” spills onto the corner of the carpet imported from Stratiss. When Boris finds out, he’ll lose his mind. The thought brings a smile to my face.
“Dead men don’t smile,” Rhainn mutters from the sofa, where he has been wallowing all morning. All my younger brother does is wallow.
I ease onto my elbow, sending a red glob tumbling onto the marble floor. “I don’t know. I figure some of them do.” Especially the ones who are relieved to be free of this world. I sit up fully, pressing my fingers to the sticky “wound” at my side and bringing them to my lips. Sugary sweet strawberries coat my tongue.
My baby brother Kyffin grins down at me, his wooden sword still aimed at my heart. “Do you yield?” he asks, his voice pitched with youthfulness.
“To you? Always.”
Rhainn lets out a heavy groan, flopping onto his side like a dying bird.
“What troubles you today?” I ask, even though I have a feeling I already know.
His strong sigh ruffles his black hair spread across the cushion. “I thought for certain I found my mate, but she claims she doesn’t love me anymore.”