Page 96 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“And yet,” Nore said.

“I know it’s a terrible idea,” Caspian agreed. “I know you would kill me just as soon as you would fuck me.” She flinched—in his words, she heard the echo of the duchess’s directive, given through Tern. “And even if you did want me, that does not mean I wouldn’t find a blade in my heart the next morning.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“My beautiful Nore,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eyes sparkling like flint in the moonlight. “Do you remember our wedding day? You married me in green, with flowers in your hair. And then that night, how devastating you were, blushing all the way down to your chest.” His eyes followed that very path now, searing, tracing fire across her skin. By his side, his left hand twitched—the only sign that his impeccable control was slipping. “And now… you are so beautiful, I find it unbearable. You think I don’t remember what your skin tastes like? What your body feels like? You think I don’t lie there every night and pretend I don’t remember what it’s like to have you—and that I don’t still crave you now, more than ever?”

Nore narrowed her eyes at him. “You do want me.”

He moved no closer. “Of course I want you.”

A fraction of a second. That was the duration between Nore’s brain screaming, This is a fucking terrible idea and her heart pounding in her chest, the decision already made. That was how long it was before Nore moved forward, pushing Caspian back against the desk. She tangled a hand in his hair—and oh, how many times she’d caught herself looking at him, wanting to do just this—and dragged his mouth down to hers.

She kissed Caspian, and it felt like coming home.

One of his hands cupped the nape of her neck, tilting her head, and she gladly complied. He deepened the kiss, tasting of rich wine and years of familiarity.

Nore collided with him, gripping him by his shirt, pulling him as close as she could and then closer still. Caspian dropped his hands, locked them on her hips, and whirled her so she perched on the edge of the desk, framing his hips with her thighs.

“Nore,” he said against her mouth, almost mournful. His hands came up, pulling pins until her hair fell loose around her shoulders. “Your hair,” he murmured. He moved back just enough so he could look at her, and Nore was breathing too hard, her heart beating too fast. “There is nothing to rival its beauty anywhere else in this world.”

She could deal with lust but not tenderness. Nore bit his bottom lip, hard. He dropped his head to her shoulder, his mouth on her neck as his hands continued their path down her body like he was searching for something to steal.

His left hand found the slit in her skirt, and she shivered as his fingertips traced up her thigh. Caspian leaned his forehead against hers, watching her face as he parted her thighs, as he pushed the silk aside, as his knuckles grazed the heat at her center.

Nore gasped. Caspian pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

She shook her head, her hand still tangled in his hair. “No.”

He paused only a moment to bring her hips to the edge of the desk, and then his hand was back. She shuddered when he touched her. This was nothing like their first time together, when they were both so young—they had spent years learning each other, getting to know how to drive one another uniquely insane. When Caspian continued his slow circling, she used one hand to bring his mouth down to hers, the kiss laden with vicious desire.

With the other, she reached for his hip, her fingers tracing the top of his trousers, pulling at the edge of his shirt. When she got underneath it, she felt the planes of his stomach hot on her fingertips, and that was familiar, too.

When would she stop hurtling headfirst into the past?

Not yet, she thought as she struggled with the fastenings on his trousers. He groaned against her mouth when she took him in hand, burning hot and hard against her palm.

Nore bit his lip.

They were moving too fast, too recklessly, making too many decisions that they couldn’t walk back. She felt the pleasure mounting, her whole body tightening, and then he gripped her wrist and pulled her hand back. Nore started to protest, but Caspian dropped to his knees in front of her and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. Nore fell back against her elbows, unmoored, as he shouldered her thighs apart and dragged her even closer, his fingers digging into her hips, her ass, her lower back.

Nore cried out when he brought his mouth to her.

“Finch,” he chastised.

Nore pressed the meat of her palm against her mouth, biting down. Some part of her was distantly aware that she was here, on a mission, in some poor clerk’s office, with her dress rucked up around her hips and Caspian’s mouth hot and demanding against her—Caspian, whom she’d promised herself never to be in this position with again—but the other part of her was so lost to the cresting wave within her that it didn’t much matter anyway.

“Yes,” she begged, feeling the crash looming. “Cas, I’m—”

He broke off abruptly, startling her. He was still for half a second, long enough that she wondered if this was just a humiliating trick, when his hand locked on her hip and he pulled her off the desk.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered, his voice still thick with want.

He pulled her against him, and her brain was still struggling to catch up, still witless with wine and pleasure. She let him drag her under the desk, pulling her back to his chest, his legs framing hers, one arm wrapped around her torso as his other hand covered her mouth. He was hard against her, the length of him pressing against her lower back. Nore only barely fought the instinct to arch back into him.

He was right. The door opened, and Nore’s breath hitched. Unthinking, she brought her hands to cover Caspian’s, lacing their fingers together.

But they were both trained. They both knew what to do. Nore controlled her breathing, forcing herself to relax even as her heart thundered in her chest, to maintain stillness.