Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
He shutters his eyes, appearing relaxed, though surely he’s always on high alert.
I pause for a moment to admire his broad chest, remembering what it felt like to touch those curves last night, and then wrap myself in my towel to ward off the chill in the air.
Venturing over to the side table, I sample more elderberries and then lean down to check the blooms for a floral scent. I’ve never seen such flowers before.
“It’s faint. You need to get very close to catch it,” Tyree says, his voice gravelly.
I lean in more, inhaling deeply. “I still do not smell anything.”
“You’ll need to get closer.”
“What?” Tipping my head, I discover his heated eyes locked on my backside, my towel doing little to cover the view at this angle. “You mongrel!”
His laughter fills the room.
I collect the bar of soap from the stool and whip it at his chest.
“Thank you. I was going to ask you to pass that to me.”
“You are insufferable.” Meanwhile, I’m struggling to hide my smile.
“I rather like you too.” He chuckles as he lathers soap and smooths his hands over his throat, his chest, his arms. All places I gladly caressed last night.
That, if I’m being honest with myself, I’m craving to touch again. Twice, Annika? Once, fine, but allowing it to happen a second time can no longer be blamed on the dire moment.
I distract myself with a new leather vest laying on the bed. “This is far too small for you.”
“I should hope so. I bought it for you.”
“Me?” I test the soft leather with my fingertips.
“I thought it would look good on you, with your hair color.”
The craftsmanship is impeccable. Even Dagny would be hard-pressed to produce something so exquisite. “Did you steal it?”
“You offend me.” He splays his bent legs in the tub, allowing me a fine view of his sculpted torso and the gift waiting for me, begging to be stroked. “I stole a purse of coin from a guard who was abusing the young meat merchant and bought it with that.”
I snort. “You have no shame.”
“You benefit from my lack of it.”
On impulse, I slip off my towel and try on the vest. “Well?” I turn around, modeling it for him. “Were you right?”
His Adam’s apple juts from his neck as his eyes rake over my body. “Yes. Very much so.”
With a smile of satisfaction, I peel it off and gingerly set it on the table. Collecting the elderberries, I stroll naked to the far side of the bed and slip under the blankets.
“Are you not going to eat more than that?” he asks.
“Maybe later. I need sleep. You allowed me so little last night.” I roll onto my side to study the darkening sky, the sun now set. In truth, I am tired, but I couldn’t possibly drift off, not with the heady charge in the air between us, like those moments before a bolt of lightning strikes.
The sound of splashing water fills our quiet room as Tyree bathes himself. I could be wrong, but it seems he’s traded his ease of earlier for speed because he is out of the tub within minutes.
I admire his firm backside through the reflection in the window as he towels off his body in a hurry. The bed sinks with his weight as he climbs in on the other side.
And then suddenly, I feel him everywhere—his bare, damp body molded against my back from my ankles to my shoulders, his cool nose and hot breath burrowed in my neck, his strong hand kneading a breast.
His hard cock pressed against my tailbone.
I inhale. Yes, that soap mixes delightfully with his skin, even if he bathed in my soiled water, and more so with the orange blossom scent of his blood. I run my tongue along my teeth, searching for the sharp points that are no longer there. Would I be able to control myself if they were? I no longer think so.
Tyree’s thumb strokes across my pebbled nipple. “You are going to make me beg tonight, aren’t you?”
I smile into my pillow. “Is begging beneath the Ybarisan prince?”
“Nothing is beneath me when it comes to you, Annika,” he whispers, his voice unusually gruff, his words as blunt as a hammer’s strike. He pushes aside my curls so his lips can find my nape.
I shiver as his tongue drags across it.
“I seem to be completely at your mercy,” he whispers.
That’s funny, because I feel like I’m completely at yours.
His hot lips trail down my spine, all the way to the crevice of my backside, the hand that was roaming my breasts following his movements, splayed as it traces my curves downward, over my abdomen and my hips, until it lands at the delicate place at the apex of my thighs.
His fingers slip over my slick center before sinking deep inside my core.