A slow smile spreads across his face. “Your secret is safe with me.”
I believe him for now, though I expect the moment it makes sense for him to share it with someone else, he will. I cannot count on him to be more than a temporary friend because I have precious little hope to start with. I have the slimmest opportunity to save Aidia and very little time to do it. I need something valuable to bring back to my parents so I can get the key to the tunnel and get her away from Rafe before she breaks for good.
I turn my back to Henry and flip through the book again until I come across an illustration that depicts a woman whose limbs are tied to the four posts of the bed. “So, is it like this? Will I be restrained?”
Suddenly, he’s behind me, his body pressed to my backside. My heart kicks into a faster rhythm as his fingers skim my hip.
“Would you like to be?” His voice is different—low and gruff in a way that twists my stomach in knots.
“No, I don’t think I would.”
He chuckles, his breath ruffling my hair. “No, I don’t think so either. You like to think you’re in charge.”
“I am.”
He runs his fingers up my waist, then higher, sliding his palm to my stomach and pressing my body back against him. “Let’s test that theory.” He presses a soft kiss behind my ear.
“What are you?—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re going to have to get used to me touching you—make them believe that you enjoy it.”
“It’s a good thing I’m an exceptional actress,” I say, but my voice is too breathy to be believable.
“We’ll have our wedding ceremony and party, just like I imagine you do in Lunameade.” He kisses my neck, and it’s so nice not to worry he will accidentally kill himself by brushing his lips to mine.
His breath ghosts over the nape of my neck as he speaks. “Then we’ll be brought to the ceremony room. There’s a bed at the center and couches and seating around the perimeter where everyone is welcome to station themselves.”
“To watch?” I ask.
He nips at my neck, and I gasp.
“Yes. To witness me claiming my new wife. To be certain that I’m capable of pleasing her.”
I frown. “Plenty of women can’t get off with a partner by no fault of their own.”
“Yes, but there needs to be a believable connection. To make sure that neither of us is faking our commitment to each other. And there’s particular pressure on me as their heir to be able to please his wife. If I can’t deliver on my commitment to you, I won’t be able to deliver for them, and since my family has already failed to protect them once, the pressure is on.”
“That’s a lot to risk on a stranger.” Especially a stranger he’s supposed to hate—a stranger whose family nearly wiped his people out, assuming he knows that’s the case.
His lips brush over my pulse. The instinct to pull away from him wars with the satisfaction of being touched this way.
It’s been too long since Bea and almost a lifetime before that. There was an occasional tumble with a handsome idiot from one of the bars I snuck off to, but those were always quick and disappointing.
Henry’s slow and sensual kisses on my throat are so different and not unwelcome. He’s being too bold and no one is here to watch this. I should stop him. I should pull away.
“We worship Kennymyra, the Divine of Pleasure, and we take the pursuit of pleasure very seriously,” he says.
“Will I have to be naked? I was measured for undergarments this morning,” I rasp.
He pauses. “You strike me as very confident in your body.”
“That doesn’t mean I wish to share it with the world.”
He hums softly against my neck. “You can choose to keep them on if you’d like, but the acts are very clear. Whatever you wear needs to be something that allows me to get my face between your thighs.”
I clench my legs together involuntarily. Trying to deny my attraction to him would be ridiculous at this point. There’s a ruggedness to Henry’s good looks. So many of the men in Lunameade are pretty, but soft. Henry’s hands are callused, his forearms marked with faint scars. And he’s confident in the way of someone who has rarely been denied.
“I’m going to make you come with my mouth and my cock.” He says it so matter-of-factly—like he’s talking about the weather or what he’s planning to wear to dinner.
