“I love the way your body fits perfectly to mine.” His hand slides across the curve of my hip and lands on the inside of my thigh, digging his fingers gently into my skin. The thin cloth of my undergarments is barely noticeable against his rough fingertips as he moves his hands closer to where I want them. My body takes over as my hips push forward in response to his touch.
“Most importantly”—he takes his free hand and uses it to cup under my chin, so I’m forced to look at him—“I love your fearless, beautiful heart, Samaria.”
Tilting my head, he takes a deep kiss, parting my mouth with his own, biting slightly on my lower lip as he pulls away. All while his hand rubs firmly where it’s anchored between my legs. “You wield your empathy like a weapon,” he continues, flipping me on my back and settling over me. “You look into the darkness of others and instead of running from it, you questionwhyit’s there in the first place.”
His fingers push away the small fabric of my undergarments, finding my center. A soft moan leaves me as I tilt my hips forward.
“You are soft and kind,” Jarek continues, his fingers circling right where I need them to, “strong and compassionate.”
Gripping his shoulders, my nails dig into his inked flesh.
“And there isno onein this world that is deserving of your full attention.” His lips brush against my ear, his beard scratching against my cheek, and my breath hitches as he finally pushes into me. “Not even me, my queen.”
My body heats from his touch, from his fingers working rhythmically inside of me, from the words I’ve made him repeat on numerous occasions for my comfort.
Maybe it’s selfish to have him tell me again all the reasons he loves me, but his truth is the only one I care for. So often my mind plays tricks on me. Convincing me that the love others have for me isn’t real. That I’m alone in this world, despite the reassurance I’m given that I’m not.
“I love you,” I pant out, before he slides off the bed and onto his knees. He drags me forward by the back of my calves so I’m on the edge of the mattress before positioning his face between my legs. I prop myself on my elbows, biting my lip to stifle a moan as Jarek leaves a trail of kisses on either side of my inner thigh. I’ve seen many beautiful things in my life, but none quite measured to the sight of Jarek on his knees.
He swipes his tongue, his fingers and mouth working together, and it’s enough to push me over the edge until I’m seeing stars. Once he’s sure I’ve met my release, he crawls back up, cradling my body between his arms.
“I love you too, Samaria.” He kisses me, and this time, the role reverses. It’s me who takes control. I push him into the mattress and climb on top of him, placing kisses along his neck and shoulders. He moans my name and it’s the last bit of encouragement I need before I join our bodies together. How could I ever doubt his love for me when I feel it in every part of his body. In every inch of his soul and in mine.
We are the same, he and I, and I am a silly girl to forget it.
Eight
Roman
“I need to rest, Galen.”I kiss his damp forehead before rolling onto my back. My breaths are short and hot, but when his hand slides across me again, I lose all hope of going to sleep.
“No, you don’t,” he says before dragging me back on top of him. We are slick with sweat but it doesn’t stop him from forcefully pulling me down for another kiss. I can’t help the moan that’s coaxed out of me, muffled between his mouth and mine.
I should tell him.
Tell him I have not been as loyal as he always says I am. That in my own way, I have defied the very thing we’ve been working toward. Galen’s hands are strong as they draw lines down my back and through my hair.
I should tell him I made a deal with the Dyrsjel that will surely foil his plan of starving her into submission. But the moment the truth comes out, he’ll be angry. Livid. It isn’t as though he’s never been angry with me before, it’s something I’ve come to expect. But even still, the thought paralyzes me.
Tell him.
Tell him.
Curse this conscience of mine.
“Wait.” I pull myself from him and roll onto my back.
“What is it?” he asks gently. So tender and still a bit breathless from our kiss. That spark of need coils again in my abdomen. Only for me is he soft in this way, and something about that shoots straight through me. For a moment, I debate abandoning my conscience altogether. Who needs morals with a man like Galen in your bed.
But, alas, no matter how many times I’ve worn the mask of the corrupt king, it always seems to fall.
“I need to tell you something.” I run an unsteady hand through my hair.
Galen props himself on his elbow, his blonde hair a mess as well. “Surely it can wait.” He leans over to kiss my neck.
“I gave the Dyrsjel food.” I spit out the words quickly, not allowing myself another moment to change my mind. Galen’s mouth pauses against my skin.
“And why would you do that?” His voice has switched again. Not a drop of tenderness. His blue eyes find mine, and there’s no curiosity there. Only anger.
