“I’m sorry about earlier. In the library.”
I’m not, but I’m not above lying if it gets him to let down his guard. Killian sees right through me, and scoffs.
“No, you aren’t.”
“I am. Won’t happen again. You’ve made yourself perfectly clear on the subject.” Lowering my voice and leaning in slightly, I whisper, “You don’t want me. I understand. I confess I am unaccustomed to such a reaction in men?—”
He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper. I suppress a giggle and go for the jugular.
“I may be innocent, but I am aware that certain men prefer the company of other men to that of women?—”
He seizes me by the arm and steers me into an antechamber, pushing my back against the wall and looming over me.
“I. Don’t. Prefer. Men,” he grits out. “And you know it, Princess.”
I tilt my chin and cross my hands behind my back, pinning them to the cold stone wall with my hips. “Are you sure? Have you tried?”
His cap plops to the floor as he rakes both hands through his dark hair. I like it messy and falling around his face. It suits him better.
“Yes, and no, respectively.”
“How do you know if you haven’t tried?” I widen my eyes innocently. “Maybe we can find one for you to try kissing…I’ll check the hall.”
Killian makes a choking sound and drags me by the elbow deeper into the alcove.
I advance on him. Fear flashes through his eyes, chased by a flare of desire when his gaze locks onto my breasts. The corset pushes them high and plump, immodestly so, a visual counterpoint to the elegant innocence of the gown itself. A thin gold chain dangles around my neck with a ruby rose pendant. Matching gems dangle from my earlobes. I look very expensive and completely untouchable.
I don’t bother trying to kiss him this time. I simply back him into the far corner, bunch layers of silk into both hands, and drop to my knees.
“Princess,” he groans.
I don’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing, but I want to try, and he isn’t stopping me. If I can do this, I’ll win this round in our unspoken contest.
I’m trying to provoke him into rescuing me. He’s clinging to misguided loyalty to a man who doesn’t deserve it. I want to steal his allegiance. I want him to swear fealty to me and me alone.
Yet that’s what makes loyalty so precious: by definition, it can’t be taken, only given. He promised me protection fromthe monsters I fear but I want more than a begrudging vow premised upon my association with a prince I can’t stand.
It’s a simple task to unbuckle Killian’s belt. The buttons on his trousers present more of a challenge, considering the hard ridge tenting the fabric. Hardly insurmountable, even with the tremor in my fingertips.
Once I have his trousers unfastened, I discover that he isn’t as easy to extract as I’d imagined. I have to maneuver him past two layers of fabric while batting the jacket out of my way. It’s not an elegant process, but then, nothing about this is in any way sophisticated. This is pure, base, coarse need.
My mouth waters at the sight of him. I run my hand along his shaft wonderingly.
Glancing up, I find him watching me with a torn expression, a mix of frustration and longing. Heat explodes in my core.
“Hold this.” I shove the low-hanging hem of his jacket into his hand and press it to his stomach. With the final obstacle out of my way, I stare down the monumental task I’ve set for myself.
Experimentally, I lick a stripe up the underside. A strained sound from above me might be pain or pleasure. I can’t tell. His hips rock forward, seeking, so I decide it’s pleasure and do the same thing again, this time daring to peer up at him through my lashes.
“Briar,” he grinds out, but he doesn’t stop me. “Anyone could see us.”
“Hmm. That would be a pity.”
Then the ruddy head slides past my lips and neither of us can speak. He grunts and tents his fingers on the top of my head in the center of that stupid tiara.
I want him to rip it off. I want to hear it clang from the stone and for Killian to yank my hair as he comes.
My knees ache. He wrests control and sets a rhythm that makes my eyes water. I have no finesse with this, but I’mlearning what he likes by the way he reacts when I strain to take him as deep as I can. I feel his body tense in response and wish I could see him without his clothes. Wish I’d looked my fill when we were back in the castle nave. His fingertips tighten on my scalp. A fraction of what I want, but enough to make hot, slippery need pool in my core.
