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“I have to ask you questions to make sure you’re not addled,” she told him, trying to sound stern. “And I would prefer to be asking those questions while not sprawled over you like a—”

“You can ask me now,” he said. He didn’t let go of her.

Not only did he not let go, his other arm came up and held her there. And it wasn’t as if this was an unfamiliar position. She’d been in it too many times to count. His body was so familiar to her, even two years on, that she felt herself melting. As if she could fuse herself to him somehow the way she’d always wanted to do.

Because her body didn’t know that she had decided this would never happen again. Her body didn’t know that she’d cut him off.

Her body knew only that it was in the presence of the only man who’d ever made her sing, physically, and it was reacting accordingly.

Embarrassingly.

She felt… Hot. Soft.

His, something traitorous whispered inside of her.

“Who’s the president of the United States?” she demanded, crossly.

“I have no idea,” he replied easily. “I do my best not to keep up to date on American issues. You do know, I hope, that there are whole regions of the world who do not think about America at all.”

“I also know that you’re not one of those people,” she retorted. “You know who the president is.”

His mouth kicked up in one corner. “I do.” He dutifully named said president. He told her the date and year when she asked him what it was. He told her what city they were in, and her name too.

“And your name?” she asked.

“You have told me it is Vesuvius,” he said, and his mouth curved. “Which seems remarkably theatrical, in my opinion.”

“It suits you,” she retorted, but if she thought that would come off as some kind of insult, it didn’t quite land. Because it did suit him.

In more ways than she cared to admit.

Especially when he reached up, curved his palm to the back of her neck, then pulled her mouth down to his and kissed her.

Chapter Four

Her taste exploded in his mouth, then washed through him, taking with it any sense of pain, any lingering aches or pains or bruises.

All of that was like nothing next to the glory of her mouth against his.

He slid his hands up and buried them in her hair, pulling it out of the knot she’d tied the heavy mass of it into on the back of her head.

And it was like a flash went through him, some kind of lightning strike. Because suddenly, he could remember every time he’d done the exact same thing. Every time her hair had fallen down over them just like this, a dark curtain smelling faintly of flowers, honey, and spice.

He angled his head and immediately found that there was more sensation and more lightning flashes. So he kept doing it. And the more he kissed her, the more he remembered all the other times he’d had that pleasure.

The more he remembered.

Their first kiss in the art gallery in Old Town in Liandero, late at night. They had talked and talked, long after the gallery staff had gone home. Long after the streetlights had gone on outside. Yet neither one of them had suggested a change of venue, or noted the time, or acted as if it was the least bit unusual or uncomfortable to remain standing in a gallery after hours, talking as if they could never possibly run out of things to discuss, and yet also as if they had only that one night to talk as much as possible.

As if they both thought that they would never have the opportunity again.

He remembered the way he had moved closer, but carefully. So carefully. Because he was the king, and while he’d doubted that she would move toward him unless he’d indicated his interest, he’d also had to make certain that he’d been reading the situation correctly. That he had been understanding this chemistry between them.

That wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

He had moved closer and she’d tilted her head up toward him, her eyes brilliantly green and so wide. He had fitted his palms to her cheeks and had held her head between his hands. Slowly, so exquisitely slowly, he had lowered his mouth to hers.

And it had been such a little kiss, that first time. Their lips had touched, retreated. Then had touched again.