Pleasure.
“Ye gods,” he murmured aloud, allowing the book to fall shut as he jerked his gaze back up to meet hers. “Is this, perchance, the secret you’ve been keeping, Lady Tansy?”
“It does not belong to Her Royal Highness, Princess Anastasia,” the lady-in-waiting was quick to say.
“You’ve already told me it is yours,” he reminded her, far more intrigued about the Boritanian beauty than he had been previously.
“What did you read?” she demanded.
He opened the book and sifted through a few pages until his eye caught on more interestingly indecent prose. “His handswept over every part of me, beginning with my throat and shoulder, then passing down over my breast, his thumb rolling one ruby nipple until an arrow of pleasure most exquisite?—”
“Enough,” she interrupted, her cheeks going a fetching shade of pink, her bosom heaving beneath the sudden frenzy of her embarrassment.
He would have been amused were his cock not presently as hard as iron.
“You asked me to tell you what I had read,” he said with mock innocence. “I was merely attempting to edify you, my dear.”
“Trying to embarrass me is more apt.”
“Are you embarrassed by the wordnipple, my lady?” he asked, showing her no mercy. “Or is it the description of the act itself? The thumb attending to the lady’s pleasure is, I confess, what intrigues me most. Tell me, is it followed with a tongue, or does the gentleman pleasuring his companion relegate himself to the use of his fingers alone?”
She was still blushing furiously as she closed the distance between them, clearly intent upon stealing the book from him so that he could not further antagonize her by reading its lustful adventures aloud. But as she leapt at him—there were no other means of describing her act, so very out of character for the proper lady-in-waiting—she failed to take note of his legs, crossed and stretched before him.
She tripped and went tumbling forward, a high-pitched squeal tearing from her throat. Her eyes were wide, arms flailing for purchase. But Maxim was prepared. His hands spanned her waist and hauled her into his lap with ease, saving her from the disaster of crashing to the floor.
Not, however, from the disaster of his insistent prick prodding her backside. She felt his ardor. No question of it, for her back instantly stiffened, and she moved to flee.
But now that Maxim had her here, he wasn’t inclined to allow her to leave with such haste. His grasp on her tightened just enough to keep her where she was.
“I do believe you lost your balance, Lady Tansy.”
“Release me,” she cried, squirming on his lap.
The act did nothing to assuage the ache in his groin. Rather, the friction only further incited the riot of lust roaring within him.
He strengthened his hold. “Stop moving if you please. It was your own recklessness that landed you here, and now you must pay the forfeit for your lack of grace.”
“Lack of grace? You tripped me, you…you…Varrosian oaf!”
For some reason, her attempt at paying him insult amused Maxim.
He chuckled. “Do you know what you sounded like when you fell, spitfire? You sounded like a little piglet.”
“A p-piglet?” she sputtered, her outrage nothing short of endearing.
She was delicious. Intoxicating. He wanted to bask in her fury. Wanted to hold her here, kicking and fighting and wounding him with razor-sharp verbal barbs. And then he wanted to kiss her until she was sighing and using all her scorching flame to seduce him instead of to flay him alive.
“Mmm,” he said, admiring the way the candlelight danced in her dark hair, bringing to life shades of cinnamon and gold hidden within the rich depths. “A very small, very charming, very angry one.”
“How dare you compare me to a beast?”
“Lower your voice if you don’t want Gustavson’s guards to run into the chamber and find you sitting in my lap,” he warned lightly.
In truth, he had no doubt they would remain where they were, fear not just of himself but also the princess’s mysteriousillness and the possibility that it was catching keeping them in the hall. But he hardly wanted one of the blackguards to race into the room, intent upon discovering the reason for her outraged demands. The guards Gustavson had hired were not nearly as vicious as the assassin, but Maxim wasn’t inclined to spill blood just now.
Lady Tansy stilled at the mentioning of the guards, her spine stiffening. “I am not seated here of my own free will,” she said, her voice significantly quieter, though still laced with the sharp snap of irritation.
He disliked the implication of force, for he had maintained his hold on her only to shake her polish and poise. And yet, he could admit to himself that he liked having her in his lap. Liked the soft, womanly weight of her, the heat seeping through her layers of petticoat and gown to burn him. Liked the swell of her rump nestled against his cock.
