Page 53 of Bared

Now, she craved other things. Wild things. Ferocious things.

She longed for the bear.

Yes, even in his openly incensed state.

“I should spank you for that.”

And ohhh yes, even after he issued that. Maybe more now, as fresh fear flowed throughout her. But like before, she welcomed the apprehension. Its excitement in her marrow. Its uncertainty in her nerves. Its sizzle in her blood. Though she had experienced something similar after jumping onto that fishing trawler on Arcadia, this occasion was so much more different.

This time, the boat was about to go over a waterfall. And how sweet her drowning would be.

The anticipation shot her spirit with bravery and her lips with words. “Perhaps you should do that. Maybe, Sir, I even…deserve it.”

The bear was officially jabbed again.

Her heartbeat galloped at her rib cage again.

And then exploded—as Brickham kissed her again.

This time, it was strict and sexual and brutal—but too damn swift. He shifted away too fast, leaving her lips parted and her senses unsated. Undoubtedly she kept that penury across her face, since the man took a long pause to simply stare at her. He was unnervingly steady about it, breaking the look only to let a smile break free. All right, it was more like a smirk with a curiosity chaser.

Ohhh, yes. Force of Nature knew exactly what he’d just done—and not done—to her.

He stepped back, continuing his maddening half grin while gathering her feet into one of his hands. Without deterring his gaze, he placed them on the end of the opposite counter.

“And now we get to the good part,” he murmured. Such an innocuous collection of words, but delivered in his low and rough-edged voice, they became her aural crack.

Her senses were already spinning. Her body was already so needy. Her nipples puckered. Her breaths were shallow and stuttery.

“You…say that…as if…”

He leaned in again but kept the center of his form back where it was. He planted his hands on the counter next to her hips. “As if what, Pixie?”

“As if…your favorite part of a meal is coming.”

“And that I’m past starving?”

He already provided that answer with more of his thick growl. It soothed some of Jayd’s nerves. She could give speeches to huge rooms full of people but was at novice level with this kind of conversation. What did she say next? Or do next? Was Brickham still skittish too, even after all the justification she gave about her other skill level? What was the right move?

Fortunately—ohhh, so fortunately—Brickham made his first.

By hooking his index fingers into the waistband of her leggings and yanking hard.

“Oh!” The cry spilled out before she could help it. Brickham did not seem to mind. Maybe the opposite. His sharp catch of breath was like a whip crack in the kitchen’s little space.

“Christ,” he blurted, hurriedly tossing her leggings over his shoulder. Just as swiftly, he shucked his sweater and tossed it the same direction. “Yes. Damn.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“And those words, spoken so beautifully…” He dipped in lower, roaming his gaze all over her face as if trying to decide where to kiss her next. Also as if the fate of nations rested on his choice. “You’re spoiling me already, Pixie.”

Her cheeks heated. It felt magnificent. “I would be happy to keep doing so, Sir. I just—” She squirmed a little, riding another wave of what-the-hell-do-I-do-now. “How would you—what would you like me to do next?”

At first, his answer was only a darkness in his gaze and a pleased tilt of his lips. That did not last long. “Take your shirt off,” he grated, emphasizing with a rough tug at the hem of the garment. The implication was clear. If she dallied about obedience, he would undress her himself.

As if she could think about tarrying.

As if she could think about anything else but the fire in her blood from the brush of his fingers. The shivers across her skin from the caress of his gaze. The need in her spirit from the authority in his growl. But it was not just his dominance. It was his blatant, prominent desire—all of it just for her. Her, as the woman she was to him. Not the princess who could aid his political standing. Not an illegitimate sister who had become a drastic liability. Not even as an exotic notch on his bedpost, a way of checking off the Island Kingdom Figurehead box for him. If anything, her social status was a giant red flag for the man, waving boldly between them even now.