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This is exactly why I can’t allow lust to take over.
I’m a stoic warrior, damn it. I’m supposed to be searching for wounds, not drooling like an undisciplined teenager.
I resume my inspection.
There’s no blood on Ro. Moving my hands to her back, I run my palms over her shoulder blades to feel for any abrasions I can’t see.
Bad idea.
Checking someone for injuries isn’t exactly my idea of foreplay, butfuck.
Her skin is warm velvet.
Plus, she smells incredible, and having her right under my nose isn’t doing me any favors.
Earlier, when I told her she’s like flowers, honey, and sunshine, I wasn’t being poetic. Her scent is intoxicating. If I could bottle it and own it, I’d sniff it every day just to get the euphoric high it gives me.
My cock throbs insistently as my study becomes slower, softer.
I trace her spine. Traveling from the top to the bottom, I get to the small of her back, flatten my palms, and splay my fingers out so I can feel more of her. My pinkies drag over the swell of her ass and my thumbs rub along the sides of her rib cage.
I end up grazing one of her tits with my thumbnail. Accidentally, of course.
Her breath hitches, and the little puff coming from her mouth caresses my jaw.
Our faces are so close.
We’re almost kissing.
It takes every ounce of resolve I can muster, but I extract my hands from her, raising my arms in a surrendering gesture. “Many apologies, Your Majesty. I’m not trying to violate you.”
A small smile tugs at her lips, and her eyes give me nothing but trust. “I know.”
It’s her trust that does me in. I feel special because it should be impossible for her to put her faith in any man—especially when that man is having dirty thoughts—yet she looks at me like she’s content to lay her life in my hands.
I want to be worthy of her confidence.
Which starts with menotacting on the urge to fuck her brains out.
“We should get going.” Gently lifting Ro from my lap, I place her in the grass before standing to help her up.
She accepts my hand while holding the still-sheathed dagger in the other.
Looking at the weapon, she shrugs with a slightly ashamed expression. “I guess I’m not as good with this thing as I thought.”
“In your defense, I don’t think anyone teaches a class on what to do if you get attacked by roses,” I tease.
She catches onto my slightly playful tone, and it makes her smile. I love that smile.
After she assesses her outfit, she decides the best place to stash the weapon is inside the right strap of her loin cloth.
Oh, to be that dagger, against the bare skin of her hip.
It’s completely irrational for me to be jealous of an object, but I am.
“Do you think that was the test?” Ro glances back at the frenzied flowers that have turned her robe into shredded strings. “Because if it was, that means we have to go back through there to announce the end of the challenge.”
“No,” I respond, certain it wouldn’t be that easy. “That was simply a nuisance.”
