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Shiraz Cimarron didn’t do anything halfway.
And he was definitely all-in on this shit.
In his heart, “reign” was the same word as “service”. The birds on his chest weren’t just for the cool patriotism factor. His birthright had made him a prince but his heart had made him a leader, and neither role was ever far from his psyche—leading to the electricity everyone felt the moment he entered a room. What I’d felt, and still did. Most people wrote off that buzz to the power of his beauty, but when one looked beneath that surface, and saw the deeper truths about him…
That the resplendence on the outside was only the beginning.
That the magic of him…was him.
It changed things.
It made people yearn for more.
It made me crave more.
Much more.
So much that without thinking, I’d crossed the room. Stepped up so I was only a foot from him. Reached out, fitting my hand into his. Lifted my gaze, waiting on the verdict of his.
It was only the clasp of our hands. That was all it had to be.
At least that was what I told myself. Over and over and over and—
“Lucina.”
Not a question, though implying one. Underlining it in the new focus of his eyes, the responding pressure of his hold.
“Shiraz.” I pivoted enough to face him in full. Slid my fingers against the palm of his other hand. “I really do get it.”
Rough inhalation. So damn sexy. “I know.”
“And I just want to help.”
“I know.”
I lifted a heartened smile. He meant that. I felt it in the warmth of his grasp, despite the tightness still governing his face. The bruise on his cheek had darkened, making me feel maternal and primal at the same time, wanting to simultaneously soothe him and fuck him. On the other hand, yearning to fuck him wasn’t new. Not by a longshot. Just the other part was new.
Though no less dangerous.
Which had probably made this move a very dumb-ass choice.
I let my gaze dash to the side. Not an easy task. “Sometimes, all you need is a friend to listen.” Leave it there. Leave. It. There. “But if this isn’t helping…”
Dumb. Ass. Dumb. Ass.
He let my hands fall. “It is not.”
Stupid embarrassment, as his definite tone sank in.
But then shocked wonderment—as he filled his grip with my ass instead.
Racing arousal, as he yanked me in, molded me close, and kissed a whole layer of skin off my lips. Sucked every molecule of air out of my lungs. Stole every logical thought straight from my mind. Steamed every sensual, dewy drop in my pussy.
Finally, dragged his head up enough to look at me—though his eyes, full of blue lava lust, stayed riveted on my parted, panting lips.
“This is helping.”
