The angle of his knees forced mine to split. One of his legs was positioned between my thighs, and bunches of my gown furled around him. My knee was nearly nuzzling his length.
I glanced down to see how near, once, twice. Shame heated my face and I forced my attention to the top of the coach.
Jonas held me in a way that my body tangled around him as much as possible without straddling his lap.
I was a weak woman, for I wasn’t certain I’d mind if I did.
“I’ll rephrase my previous question.” The prince spoke with a deep silky darkness, so near to my parted lips the heat of every word brushed over my tongue. “Would it bother you if I spent my time with other women?”
“No.”
“If you care so little, I wonder why your skin is flushed, Wife.”
“I’m merely annoyed by your nearness.”
He returned a wolfish grin. “Ah, see, I thought you might’ve imagined being the one in my bed. It is a marvelous thought, you ought to give it a go.”
“Only in my nightmares.” The lie felt heavy with each word.
“But they would be such satisfying nightmares.” The prince leaned forward. “And I think you are lying.”
He gripped a handful of my gown, like he might lift it, baring my thighs to him.
I didn’t push him away.
My voice was ragged, too low, too soft. “I will not tell you to do otherwise. Your folk even made it clear we were not bound to fidelity. Perhaps I’ll do the same.”
Rough breaths made the prince’s shoulders rise and fall with a bit of strain. “If you’re trying to get under my skin, you’re succeeding. The notion of you being seen by anyone else has me feeling rather violent.”
He couldn’t mean it. It didn’t fit the reality I’d shaped for this vow.
One corner of my lip curled. “Are you saying you want to reap the benefits of your claim on me, Prince?”
“My wants must come second.” He tilted his head. “Until you want the same, my hand will be my lover.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t blame you.”
Jonas’s palm drifted up my spine, slow and sensual, the tips of his fingers memorizing each pearl button on my gown. This close, my breasts brushed against his chest.
Perhaps it was imagined, but a flash of dark ink seemed to spill into his eyes, and a strange rumble rolled from his throat on his next draw of air.
“I will do what I can to prove it to you,” Jonas said.
“You are not obligated to me but on the full moon. I am not here to disrupt your existence. I am simply your wife.”
Jonas dragged the tip of his nose across my cheek. I fisted my palms over my knees.
When he spoke, his lips grazed my ear. “Yes you are, Fire.”
Need throbbed between my thighs, and for a fleeting moment, I imagined his mouth on my neck, the hand on my spine unfastening those buttons.
Before I could rationalize through the haze, I let my knees widen a bit more, and nudged forward until the point of his knee added friction and pressure to the ache of my core. Jonas moaned and turned his face against me, his teeth nipped at one of the rings in my ear.
The coach shuddered to a halt, nearly spilling me off the last bit of the bench.
Jonas pulled away, blinking like he’d been tossed into the shadowsof want as much as me. When movement from the front rocked the coach, I hurried to smooth out my skirts and return to my stiff, distant position on my seat, head turned away from my husband.
