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“Tell me you don’t want this, Summer,” he whispers. “Tell me to stop and I’ll walk away.” It’s almost a plea. Maybe he feels as out of control as I do. But I couldn’t stop this thing between us at this point even if I wanted to.
Everything after that is a blur. I’m in his arms. There’s a flash. A portal. We’re in his bedroom. Snow speckles the air like dust motes and fall over my feverish skin, tiny pinpricks of cold. My crystallized breath spills from my throat in milky bursts.
He settles me onto a pile of furs over his bed and then stares down at me with a predatory look that sets my insides ablaze. He drops to his knees and spreads my legs. I watch as his hand fists the hem of my dress. Watch as he tugs it up to my belly, his other hand stroking the inside of my exposed thighs. My newfound muscles respond to his touch, clenching and trembling.
All the nerves inside my body are melting down. I feel everything. The impossibly soft fur against the back of my bare thighs. His fingernails flicking over my skin. My silk dress as it slides up my stomach and over my head. His hungry gaze unapologetically raking over every inch of me.
I watch, mesmerized, as his slender hands move over me. Curling a finger beneath my panties, he tugs them off. My bra is next.
His eyes never once leave mine.
He wants me to see his intentions. To take in the full force of his desire. Every time I gasp, it ripples through him. Every time his fingers graze my flesh and I tremble, one corner of his mouth curls in amusement.
At one point, his gaze snags on my tattoo. His brand. He captures my wrist between his hands, holds the inside of my forearm up to his lips, and kisses the inky swirls, his mouth tracing up my arm.
There are no words between us. My rapid breathing creates a symphony in time with the wild hammering of my heart. I don’t even have a chance to feel awkward at my lack of experience because he does everything.
I wish I could say when he lowers himself onto the bed that I protest a little. Wish I could say I hesitate, even for a moment, as he claims my body as his. That Mack’s warning and Evelyn’s predicament and my own misgivings give me pause. But nothing matters except satisfying the savage, primal urge raging through every cell in my body.
I have to quench the inferno or I’ll die.
“Promise,” I breathe as his teeth capture my earlobe. “Anything,” he pledges, his voice thick with excitement.
The chill of his cool breath against my ear makes me sigh. “Don’t hurt me.”
A long pause. “I promise to always protect you.” He punctuates his answer first in the form of a languid, penetrating kiss. Then with his fingers as they glide between my breasts, across my stomach, between my thighs, and inside me.
“Always,” he repeats. “No matter the price.”
We don’t have sex, but the acts we do are just as intimate. Maybe more. And through it all, he kisses me. My neck. My lips. My breasts. Other places. Until there isn’t a spot on my body his lips haven’t claimed.
That gentle act sprinkled between the passionate, almost desperate clash of our bodies is enough to undo me completely.
In this tiny sliver of time, I am his and he is mine.
Hours later, I fall asleep against his chest, so tired I couldn’t move if my life depended on it. When I finally come to, the prince is whispering my name. “Summer.”
“Sleepy.” I bury my head in a pillow to avoid the silvery light trickling from the crack between his heavy blue drapes.
“I have to leave,” he says. “Feel free to stay as long as you need.”
With his voice comes reality. A startling, sobering reality.
I am naked and the room is freezing and . . . oh my God, the others must be so worried about me.
Fisting the plush duvet between my fingers, I drag the covers around my body and sit up. The prince sits in bed, naked, sipping some type of fragrant tea from a gilded teacup. But all his attention is on me.
I can’t tell if the gleam in his eye is from amusement at my shyness or his memory of last night.
Holy hell, last night. A spark of desire rushes through my middle, and warmth blooms over my chest.
Without breaking my gaze, he sets the teacup down on his nightstand, leans forward, and kisses me.
The kiss isn’t a morning-haven’t-brushed-your-teeth-yet kiss. It’s a full blown, sexy, third date kiss.
A knock on the door finally breaks us apart. Eclipsa peeks her head in the room. When she sees us in bed, her eyes narrow. “Time to go, Sylverfrost. I’ve been waiting hours for your ass.”
“I’ll be down in five,” he promises. She gives me one last look before leaving.
