Page 78 of Tale of the Heart Queen

She eyes us warily, but I can see she’s already lost this battle.

“Fine,” she says, holding up a finger. “But don’t cause any trouble.”

“We would never,” he says with a wink that almost elicits a smile. How could anyone resist the Aurora Prince when he turns on the charm?

She hands him a key from behind the bar. “Second floor. Last door on the left.”

“Thank you,” he says, keeping his head high, and like water isn’t literally puddling under his feet.

“Also, could we get some hot food, clean clothes, and about twelve bottles of wine?”

CHAPTER 30

After the innkeeper graces us with another scathing look, she nods a quick, gruff yes, and then we scramble upstairs. A fire is already crackling in the hearth, and I make my way over, holding my freezing hands to the heat, my fingers aching from the thaw. I start to peel apart my clothes, struggling to extricate myself. They’re heavy and crusted with blood and sand and dirt, sticking to every crevice of my body.

The sound of running water comes from the bathroom, and I grab a blanket and wrap it around myself. I enter to find Nadir already stripped down to nothing, facing the tub with his hands on his hips. I lean against the door, taking a moment to admire every inch. The carved ripples in his back and his hair swooping over the curve of his shoulder. Those two divots in his lower back that bracket the entry to the round firmness of his ass. My gaze travels lower, sloping over his thighs, noting the way the candlelight glints off the arch of his calf. Even his ankle bone manages to stun me.

“I feel you ogling me, Lightning Bug,” he says, peering over his shoulder and flashing me a smile that both breaks and stitches up the pieces of my heart.

“Can you blame me?” I ask, moving closer, wrapping an arm around his waist, and pressing myself against his back. My nose buries into his skin, and I inhale deeply, drinking in the scent of cold winter nights and the wind cutting off snowy peaks. The scent that has become my safety and my home. The soothing call in the dark when I’m stumbling blindly through shadows.

My hand spreads over his stomach as my fingers forage along the ridges slicing over his torso. The lines of muscle and the hard angles of bone and sinew. I slide my hand higher, caressing the lines of his sculpted chest, circling a finger over a nipple, making his breath hitch.

I open my mouth and gently sink my teeth into the curve of his shoulder, wishing I could consume him. Keep him. Never let him go.

“You’re killing me,” he says, his voice soft.

“Not this time,” I reply. “This time I’m here to save you.”

A low growl rumbles in his chest, causing a spike of heat to flare between my thighs.

“Can I offer you a seat in the tub?”

I nuzzle my cheek against his back, savoring the heat of his skin. “I don’t know, I rather like this.”

His laughter is low and soft. “I do, too, but we have a problem.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” I stick out my tongue and stretch onto my tiptoes before I lick his earlobe and then suck it between my teeth, deriving the most exquisite satisfaction from his answering shiver.

“That you’re touching me, but I’m not currently touching you.”

I laugh softly. “Doesn’t seem like a problem to me.”

I drag my fingernails over his stomach, loving the flex and shift of his muscles as he attempts to hold himself still. “Does this bother you?” I ask, dragging my fingers lower, the trail of hair under his navel feathering against my fingertips.

“ ‘Bother’ . . . is not the right word,” he says with a low moan as my hand drifts lower. His skin radiates heat, and I drop the blanket still clutched around me before I press my body against his. Skin to skin, we stand in the swirling warmth as the tub fills with steaming water.

“Don’t move,” I whisper as my hand circles around his erect cock, wrapping it firmly before I slide my hand down then pump him with several strong strokes. His hips move with each decline, and I blow over the back of his neck, watching an eruption of gooseflesh spread over his skin.

“Lor,” he practically whimpers.

“Shhh,” I say. “I just want to touch you.”

“As long as I get my turn,” he growls as liquid heat pools below my navel and drips between my thighs.

“In a minute.” My hand continues with long, languid strokes, eliciting a reaction from each vein and pulse.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Please.”