Page 104 of Thief of Hearts

Now his hands were exploring, grasping, soothing, inflaming.

“Pretend that the only thing you want is my kiss.”

I didn’t have to pretend that, pathetic as it made me. When I didn’t say anything, he lowered his head to mine and began to kiss me.

Soft and firm at first, as if he had all the time in the world to explore my lips. Such thorough devastation from something that seemed so small. It felt as if he were leaving tiny scars all over my lips, scars that only he would ever be able to soothe, and my lips would ache until he kissed me again.

He lifted his head. “You were right. That flush does go everywhere.”

Goddess, I needed more. I lifted my hands up, tangling my fingers into his hair and trying to pull him closer.

He got the message.

Fire snaked its way through my veins as his tongue fitted against mine in a devastatingly sensual caress. I moaned against his mouth, not able to help myself. I could feel his lips rising into a smile but I didn’t care.

I plunged into the kiss the same way I would into battle. With everything I had.

One still-functioning part of my brain wondered what it said about me that I was lying partially naked in a bed with a man who had so grievously betrayed me. I wanted to ask myself where my honor had gone. My pride.

And why did every deep moan I wrenched from his chest feel like a victory?

He made me quiver. And ache. And long for him even though he was already touching and kissing me.

Streaks of intensity began to build up inside me, filling me with a pressure that felt like only he could release.

I moved against him and he made a deep, masculine sound in the back of his throat that thrilled me. Our tongues began to move in time with our bodies, in a rhythmic frenzy that promised unbelievable pleasure at the end of it.

As we moved, I explored the parts of his chest I’d so enjoyed. Outlining, brushing, feeling the spasm of muscle everywhere I touched. Then I began to make my way down his chest, feeling that deep vee before I moved on to—

Then he suddenly stopped, lifting himself up and away from me.

I lay in the bed, not sure what had just happened. Or why he had stopped. My lips felt swollen, my skin reddened from his stubble, my mind dazed.

And I ached for him everywhere. I didn’t even know that was possible.

“What . . . what are you doing?” I finally managed to ask when I got my voice working again.

“The spy is gone and someone is approaching. You should get dressed.”

I had completely forgotten about the spy. And how did he know someone was coming? I reached for one of the new tunics that Dione had laid out for me and put it on over my head. My limbs were trembling, my heart thumping, and my breathing still hadn’t returned to normal.

Did he know the effect he’d had on me? Had he smiled because of how easy it had been to coax me into bed? I needed to keep my distance from him.

Because if I didn’t, I would pull him back into this bed so that we could finish what we’d started.

“How was that?” I asked in the calmest voice I could manage, as if none of it had mattered.

His tunic went over his head and he tied on his belt. “You pretend very well, illora.” He said it like he knew I hadn’t been pretending.

I didn’t know why I jumped when there was a knock at the door—he had told me that would happen. Needing the distraction, I practically sprinted to answer.

“You should let me open the—” Zain started to say, but I ignored him and threw the door open.

Dione stood there with a very serious look on her face. “Queen Thalia, may I speak with you?”

“What is it?” I asked, concerned.

She looked down the hallway in both directions before taking a step closer to me and whispering.