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My cock jumped, thankfully without her noticing. I ground my teeth, because since when have I ever teased a woman or man whilst losing control of myself in the process?
Briar wrestled to keep her gaze aloft, her pulse tapping against her throat. I could punish her for this, for converting every taunt into an unexpected temptation, for preying on truths that didn’t belong to her, and for constantly turning my plans against me.
Yet dread and regret weren’t the responses I wanted to extract from this Royal. Nay, I wanted that heartbeat, that erratic button pounding in her neck, aching to burst through.
Iwantedit.
If she were of any other rank, I would make good on this moment. I’d press her against the tree, slip my hand under that skirt, and curl my fingers into the molten slot of her pussy until she came hard and sweetly into my shoulder. I fetishized about how deeply I’d have to reach to penetrate her senses, to draw out her cries, to pry the moans from her.
The fine hairs across my arms raised in protest. Briar wasn’t of any other rank. She was an infringement, a breach in my sanity, and a rather inconvenient problem. She’d come this far, which made her a threat. The last thing I could afford was a Royal’s suspicion.
Taking advantage of the princess’s momentary shock, I swiped the hoof pick from her fingers and proceeded to spin a tale. “Occasionally, I have trouble sleeping, so I fling myself into artistic sojourns. You might have heard about this forest and its power to help with impulsions. The more distance I cover here, the more inspired I become, the better I rest.”
I handed the unique murder weapon back to her. “You see? My intentions are as pristine as my wardrobe.”
“How strange that you needed a horse from the lower town, when I’m sure the Crown has gladly supplied you with one of your own steeds,” she interrogated. “How bizarre that you would take a secret passageway instead of traversing the drawbridge. I’m sure you could have flirted with the guards and convinced them to let you out.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not about to embarrass myself and give the court fodder for gossip by flaunting my insomnia. Appearances matter, sweeting. In any case, I’m trustworthy.”
She lifted her free palm. “Then hand me your blade.”
“What for?” I asked. “Mayhap ’tis the jester who can’t trust the princess.” When she made no reply, I snatched her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I’m waiting.”
“Likewise. If you wish me for to trust you: Hand. Me. The. Blade.”
“Sooooo extreme.” I squinted at her. “Just how long have you been stalking me?”
Briar flinched. “Since you vacated your bedchamber.”
Ah. I should have known the ominous presence in my room had been her, instead of chalking it up to paranoia. I wondered how many corners she’d inspected before regretting her actions—and before the contents of my room flustered her.
“Is that so?” I dipped my head. “And did you see anything you liked?”
Her throat bobbed, her ears suffusing with color. Indeed, the meddlesome little Royal had not only entered my wardrobe but noticed my assortment of pleasure trinkets. This wasn’t uncommon in any Spring chamber, though I doubted she knew that.
Then again, I liked to display my treasure trove openly. Her eyes would have unwillingly stumbled across the blindfolds, masks, cords, plumed wands, and other assortments by accident.
As for my stash of ribbons, the princess couldn’t have located those unless she’d found the compartment hidden inside my bed’s headboard. No worries there.
When she made no reply, I shook my head. “Well, well. I step out for three minutes, and you manage to squeeze your way into exclusive territory.”
Guilt flickered across her face. “I-I apologize. I shouldn’t have imposed on your absence.”
“Hmm. Repenting for the intrusionwhilstsuspecting me of being a criminalandholding a weapon to my cock? Such irony. You truly are from Autumn.”
“I merely intended to return your ribbon.”
“But the color goes so well with your hair.”
Her eyes tapered. “You should have been prudent. Isn’t that what locks are for?”
“Details. Let’s say I was being a heedless rebel, if only for the several minutes it took to loan a pot of eye pigment to one of my fellow dancers. So—” I poured the question all over her, slowly and thickly, “—what did you think of my bed?”
She blinked, flushed, did all the things I wanted her to do.
This proved the princess had inspected where I slept. The prospect of her standing beside the mattress, close to my sheets where I spent my nights naked, appealed to me more than it should. Just like everything else about her.
She recovered and nudged the hoof pick against my leather pants, threatening to dismember one of my best attributes.
