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Chapter Twenty-Three

Briar could not help but wonder if Ethan had ever known softness. There were soft beds and soft hands and soft silks, but they were not the same thing. Briar’s own mother was also not an easy woman, but Briar had Petal and she had flowers and hot tea and honeybees at the window. What did Ethan have, so young on a ship as a cabin boy? And then as a captain and the Dragon. He had fear and respect and envy, but not softness.

She began to gather the sea pinks and campion flowers and water mint that grew around them, the feverfew and the clovers and the daisies. She tucked some around his head like a crown.

“What are you doing, little thorn?” he asked.

She sprinkled petals over him. Tucked a foxglove into the scabbard with his favorite dagger. Tiny forget-me-nots in his boots. More in his pockets when it occurred to her that she really, really did not want him to forget her. When she was still not satisfied, she straddled him, feeling bold. She picked a dandelion gone white and fluffy and held it up. “Make a wish,” she whispered.

“I don’t believe in—”

She frowned at him in disapproval. “Don’t argue with a green witch.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He blew on the dandelion, sending the fluffy seeds floating in every direction. Fireflies drifted closer, flashing green. A star fell behind him.

She found pineapple weed and wrapped a dandelion leaf around it. “Now try this.”

He arched a brow. “You want me to eat weeds?”

“Yes, please.” She was still straddling him. She never wanted to stop. He was all warm, padded muscle between her thighs.

“Is this how you poison your suitors?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed I don’t exactly have a line waiting at my front door.”

“I’ve said it before, Briar. Haven is full of idiots.”

She rolled her eyes at the blatant flattery, but it made her cheeks pink all the same. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re trying to distract me,” she accused, but her voice was softer than she liked.

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it working?”

Yes. “No.” She sent him a severe glance. “You refused to eat your peas as a boy, didn’t you?”

“I was the model of proper behavior.”

“Ha.”

“You wound me.”

“Ha again. Just try it.”

He crossed his arms behind his head, smirking dangerously. “Convince me, sweetheart.”

A thrill shot through her. She had a dangerous and powerful man between her thighs and was allowed to touch him. She was allowed to want him to have to catch his breath. To make him groan. To make him whimper with need. She wasn’t supposed to want these things. But she did. Desperately.

She wiggled, settling herself. He went very still.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

She bent her head and let her voice go soft in his ear. “Please, Ethan.”

His jaw tightened, breath catching. Just once. She felt like a queen. And she would quite like to make him her throne.

“What’s that gleam in your eye?” he asked, rough and deep. Knowing.

She kissed his cheek lightly, innocently. Which was not at all how she felt. Then she kissed his other cheek, his brow. The tip of his nose. The tension in him changed, ebbed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.