He half-chokes at that. “Iris and myfather?”
“Yep.” I spin around and grab the top of the alcove, readying myself to climb back down into the secret passage.
“Why did she come on to me, then?” he asks, sounding a little affronted.
Maybe even jealous.
“Why did you turn her away?” I quip, my annoyance coming back full force. “She clearly remembers how to please you.”
His voice hardens. “Do you even have to ask?”
I pause with my bottom lip tucked between my teeth. I shouldn’t have said that. For the first time since we stepped into Faerie, he sounds genuinely angry.
“You think she could take your place in my bed? In my heart?” He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. “You think I’m as feeble as that?”
“I didn't?—”
“No. Tell me, Max. Is that truly what you think of me?”
Guilt twists my insides. “No.”
“I only want you,” he says, quieter now, but no less intense. “And you know it.”
He’s inches from my lips and catches my chin gently between his index finger and thumb before I can look away.
“I love you, Max.”
“What about Willow and Iris and Beth?”
I’m jealous, damn it.
It’s petty and small and embarrassing, but every time a new woman's name gets added to the list, it feels like another stone dropped onto my chest.
He traces my bottom lip. “Give me the choice between all other women and you, and I choose you, Max. Every time.”
My pulse stutters.
“Aren’t you going to ask who Beth is?” I breathe.
“I don’t care.”
He flattens me to the stone wall and slides a knee between my thighs. “Fucking hells, that nightgown is worse than the dress. You wanted me to come to you tonight. You wanted me to sneak into your bed, find you in that, and make you see stars, yes?”
My lids close on a spark of shame. “Yes.”
He roughly pulls down my top, enough to rip the fabric, but it holds on against all probabilities. My breasts bounce out of the nightgown, an angry sound rumbling in his chest at the sight of them.
There are no mirrors now. No one is watching. The tension in my belly is almost painful as he kneels and runs his nose up my inner thigh. The underwear is sewn into the skirt, a flimsy strip of white lace covering me.
“You can’t escape me, Max. Not until I get what I want,” he growls. “And I wantall of you. Forever.”
My lover is fucking filthy, but I love it. My serpent flames stir as he braces my right thigh over his shoulder and pulls the lace aside in a single, impatient motion.
“When will you stop running from me?” he breathes against my core.
I rest my head against the wall, my fingers tangled in his hair. “Never. You enjoy the chase too much.”
He chuckles, the vibrations hitting my clit with maddening warmth. “I caught you, now, little fox. See that bed over there?”
