He smiles and his cheeks turn pink, but he doesn’t look away from what he’s working on. “I found it difficult to draw all of you. It was like if I saw you as a whole, I would be reminded of what I didn’t have but wanted so much. So, I kept you in pieces on sheets and sheets of paper. And whenI finished a book, I could look at it and know I didn’t forget anything about you. Every part of you was in it.” He flashes me a slide-long glance. “I know, it’s a little morbid.”
“Maybe, but it’s also romantic. Can I see what you’re drawing now?”
He swallows and nods, turning the book in my direction.
It’s me. All of me. I’m wrapped in his blankets and fast asleep. Each stroke is perfect, the bow of my lips, the hair draping over the side of my face, even the freckles that sprinkle across my nose. I enjoy seeing myself the way he does.
Kyron closes the book, sets it on the nightstand, and pulls me in his arms. He kisses my forehead, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “I’ll have to draw you again with your pretty brown eyes open.”
It’s my turn to blush. “I’d like that, but right now, I just want to stay in bed with you.”
“I don’t think that’s an option.”
“You should let me pull rank this one time and use my power as queen for something that benefits us both.”
“Should I?” he whispers.
His hand slides down my stomach, leaving a dark trail of coal. My legs fall open for him, and my breath hitches when he caresses me, his fingers rubbing small circles against my clit. He kisses my neck and moves his mouth to the swells of my breasts. I arch into him, silently begging for more. He pulls my nipple between his lips and sucks. Statera, his mouth is wicked.
“You aren’t giving me much reason to leave this bed, my prince,” I breathlessly say.
“We need to plan negotiation tactics. And you may want to consider announcing some of the changes you’ve made without your council.”
“I know, but…” I cradle his head in my hands and press him to my other breast.
He smiles against my skin. “I’ll make you a deal. If I make you come before you count to a hundred, we face the day together. If I don’t, you can have today in bed, and we will try again tomorrow. Are you up for the challenge?”
“You think I’m that easy to break… oh.”
He slides his two middle fingers inside me, and his thumb resumes making circles. Every nerve ending within me is lit on fire.
“This isn’t fair,” I moan.
“You’re losing time. You better start counting.”
The numbers flow from my mouth until he captures my nipple again. I stumble, my breathing turning into pants. Numbers spill from my lips on moans, and I’m pretty sure I skip a couple. When I reach eighty-two, he curls his fingers inside me in the most delicious way. Everything rapidly unravels.
My mouth is on his and my hips grinding against his hand. “Be a good girl and come for me,” he says, his lips brushing mine.
“Kyron,” I whine, squeezing his hand between my thighs.
“You like that, don’t you? You want to be good for me, to let me feel you come all over my fingers. Do it, Raelle.”
Like he has complete control over my body, it obeys. I shudder around his fingers. He doesn’t relent, working through my release until I have nothing left to give. I sink into the mattress and wait for my brain to begin functioning again.
He rolls away laughing, clearly overjoyed by the effect he has on me. Pulling the blankets away from me, he gives my ass a playful smack. “Up, Your Majesty,” he commands, getting to his feet.
I prop up on my elbows and watch his naked form stroll to the washroom. He looks back at me and licks his fingers one by one. His voice is low and full of promise when he says, “If you hurry, I’ll fuck you in the shower.”
My heart races, a new bout of energy zinging through me. I hop out of bed and race after him.
An hour later, we have made a quick stop at my room for a change of clothes and are heading for the dining room.
Kyron looks me up and down, taking in the light-blue and pearl beaded calf-length jacket with matching form-fitting pants. I pulled my hair back at my nape and placed a delicate iron crown woven into leaves and adorned with pearls on my head.
He laces his fingers with mine and says, “It’s nice not to see you in a dreary color.”
“Says the man who always wears black.” I bump him with my shoulder and straighten the simple gold crown on his head. “I just thought there’s a lot to celebrate today. I’m still mourning for Micah. I think I always will.”
