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“Like what you see?” he asked as he looked up at me, smiling. I didn’t realize I was staring, but his low voice brought me out of my trance.
“What? No!” I said, whipping my head away to stare at the wall.
“You know,” he purred, “we really have to stop meeting like this. You have a knack for falling on me.”
“I wouldn’t have bumped into you if you weren’t in my bathing room. What are you doing here?” I asked. I was thankful for the steam collecting on the mirrors, blocking my view of my face. I didn’t want to see how flushed I was yet again.
“You mean, what am I doing getting out ofmybath inmyroom?”
I looked around. “Your room?”
“Yes, my room, Scotlind. Now I should ask you the same question. What exactly are you doing in my room, barging in while I’m bathing?” he asked as he slowly, so slowly, peeled himself off the floor. His hand rested on the top of his towel, careful to not lose it as he advanced closer to me.
I stepped back, trying to maintain our distance, but my back met with the cold marble wall. I flinched. I couldn’t go back any further, and he didn’t stop moving closer. I was utterly aware of every inch he took as he closed the distance between us.
I bit down my bottom lip nervously. “I don’t know. Reagan—she found me in the halls. I was lost and couldn’t find my room. She told me they moved me here because of the remodeling.”
“Remodeling?” At his laugh, I realized how foolish it all sounded. “Right, they are remodeling your bedroom in the middle of the night. Are you sure about that?” His chest brushed up against mine, leaving watermarks over my dress. “To me, it looks like you came to my room late at night, without your guards, might I add. And now, here you are, standing here in a very revealing dress, barging in on me while I bathe.”
I followed Sie’s gaze and looked down at my gown. The top of my dress had fallen lower, revealing more cleavage than I would have liked. I quickly tugged on it, trying to pull it higher, but it barely moved.
“What is a male supposed to think?” he breathed into my mouth as he planted his hand next to my face, pinning me between the wall and him so I couldn’t move. His other hand slid to my chin, forcing me to look up at him. He leaned in, completely closing any gap between us.
He was going to kiss me. Except this time, Peter wasn’t here to interrupt us. No one would come. This was his private chamber. I closed my eyes, waiting for it, wanting it. My brain couldn’t think past my body’s desire, couldn’t process that I should hate him. All I could think about was how his lips would feel against mine. How his hands felt as they touched my face, rough and calloused. Every place he touched sent a jolt through my system, waking me up.
I wanted him. Needed him on me. My breath hitched, and I let out a small noise as his lips finally met mine.
At first, he just barely grazed against me, lightly, lingering, teasing. Testing me. His lips were soft, still wet from his bath. He pulled away slightly. His eyes met mine, allowing me the chance to back out of this if I wanted.
I didn’t.
“Please,” my voice came out ragged and breathless. It was more of a plea than a statement. I wanted to taste him. He didn’t hesitate as he leaned forward again, this time crashing into me.
My lips parted for him, allowing him in, giving him full access to me. My hands fell to my sides. I gave up trying to pull on the fabric of the sheer dress. He slowly, but strongly, moved his lips against mine as he ground his hips into my stomach. I felt him harden against me as an ache began to form between my thighs. I wanted him. I pulled him closer to me, my own hands slipping against his wet back.
“Scotlind,” he groaned low into my mouth as he pushed the fabric away to cup the underside of my breast. “Fuck,” he whispered so softly, I thought I imagined it.
I knew I should hate this. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. I found my lips matching his, moving slowly, exploring the taste of him. I couldn’t get enough. His hands caressed my body, exploring each of my curves.
I moaned into his mouth as my back arched. He took that as an invitation to move his lips faster and harder against mine. He moved like he couldn’t get enough. One of his hands found its way into my hair. He grabbed, tangling his fingers into my curls, tugging softly so that my head tilted up for him. I obeyed. His other hand trailed down my back, pulling me against him.
I didn’t know what had come over me, but it felt good. I forgot about who I was kissing. I forgot about everything but what was happening right now. I was lost in the moment. My mind a blank canvas, only wanting to be painted by him.
I placed my hands on his arms, not caring that they were getting wet, that my dress was slowly becoming soaked with each movement. I slowly traced them down his body, taking my time feeling him beneath me. Feeling each muscle bulging below my fingertips as I traveled down and down.
When I didn’t think it was possible to get any closer to him, he continued to kiss me as he pulled me deeper into him, grabbing me by my hips.
He moaned as my lips parted for his tongue. His kisses became more fervent, more aggressive. I felt his need as strongly as I felt mine. I wanted more. Ineededmore.
My body grew sticky as the steam lingered in the air, collecting on us like morning dew—an invisible cord, entangling us into one another until we became one. The cedarwood fragrance from his soap filled my nostrils as he lifted me off the ground. He pinned me, my back flattening against the cold wall. Without thinking, I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking him into me.
He leaned his head down, his forehead resting against mine, teasing me with his closeness. I felt the absence of his lips. His eyes met mine. He was panting into my mouth as his hands gently worked their way up my legs. He trailed over my calves, my knees. He was pulling my dress up with his touch, the material bunched around my thighs.
My fingers reached into his wet locks, his hair soft beneath my fingers. He stroked his fingers idly, lazily, making caressing circles on my inner thighs, slowly working his way up higher and higher as my ache for him became all consuming. I needed him to kiss me again, but he didn’t. The tightness in my core grew and grew until it became unbearable.
“Please,” I panted.
“Please, what?” he murmured into my neck. My eyes fluttered shut as I leaned my head back against the wall. I could feel his smile against my throat as his lips formed soft kisses over my neck, not meeting mine again until I moaned, loudly.
