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“What?” he asks, his thumb rubbing one cheek. “Malen’kaya I’vitsa?”
I nod.
“It means, little lioness,” he tells me. “Because you were so brave.”
Be brave, little lioness.
“I wasn’t that brave,” I say. Something dark courses through him.
“You shouldn’t have been shot at,” he growls, his hand on my waist tightening to the point of pain. Just another bruise to add to the mix. He towers over me, filling the air between us with his scent. Sandalwood, lime, and just a hint of lily. It’s intoxicating and surprisingly calming.
“I thought you’d be glad to get rid of me,” I joke, trying to lighten the heavy blanket of emotion that has settled around us. His eyes burn with frustration.
Apparently, I’m the only one to think my attempt at levity is humorous.
Adrian reaches down between us with both of his hands. He grips the collar of my sweater tightly and rips it down the middle. I gasp, eyes rounding with desire as he throws the now useless garment to the side. I scramble out of my pants and shoes before he can decide to go all Hulk on them. Now I am left in nothing but my bra and panties.
I attempt to cross my arms to cover myself. It’s silly, really. He’s seen me naked before, but something about this moment seems infinitely more intimate than the times before. Adrian grabs my forearms and shoves them down to my sides.
“Don’t move,” he warns as he settles on one knee in front of me. The sight of the king kneeling before me takes my breath away.
Biting my lower lip, I nod meekly. He slides a hand beneath the clasp of my bra and skillfully unhooks it. He pushes the straps down my arms until the bra drops to the floor. He kicks it away and then takes a step back, his gaze darkening as it travels over the length of my body.
My body erupts like a live wire when he reaches out to touch my nipples. I blush, my skin warming as he runs his thumbs over them until they are stiff and hardened peaks. His hands splay out to palm my heavy breasts before moving up my chest and down my arms.
His jaw clenches when he comes across a bruise on my shoulder. I open my mouth to say it’s fine. That it doesn’t hurt, but my words are stolen away when he leans up, his soft lips covering the wounded flesh. His lips don’t linger as his hands continue to map and explore. He doesn’t speak, only touches, inspecting every inch of my body.
He turns me away from him, his rough hands gentle. His lips caress every bruise and scratch along his path. When he turns me back to face him, he stands, and I expect him to leave.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bathroom.
Not wanting to break whatever spell has woven itself between us, I remain still and quiet as he sheds his clothes and turns on the water in the shower. Soon, steam fills the large space. He pulls me into the shower stall, my back to the shower head, and tilts my head back.
Closing my eyes, I relish the feel of his hands running through my hair as he washes the filth of the day off. He shampoos and conditions my hair. Runs a loofah over my body. It’s sensual but at the same time, methodical. He’s not lingering or caressing. Adrian is simply running through the motions. Until suddenly, he isn’t.
My throat dries when he drops to both knees in front of me. I bite back a moan, my legs trembling, as he licks up my inner thigh.
My heart is thudding away in my chest like a jackhammer that I can feel pulsing in my neck.
“You always taste so sweet,” he murmurs, pushing my legs farther apart to make more room for his wide shoulders.
I jerk slightly when he runs a finger down my slit and through my wetness.
I’m soaked for him.
Adrian lifts one leg over his shoulder to balance me and then his head lowers between my thighs and he dips his tongue between my slit.
Oh, my fucking god.
The man between my thighs pleasures me with his tongue in ways I’ve never dreamed were possible. Nothing in my smutty romance novels prepared me for the lightning storm currently erupting inside of me right now.
So good.
He sucks my clit in his mouth.
I moan.
