Violet caressed his arm and planted a quick peck on his cheek. “It’s your first time fooling around. I’d be suspicious if you lasted long.”
Roman leaned his elbows on his knees and glanced over at her. “I’ve been practicing to ensure I last longer than sixty seconds.” He snorted. “A lot of good that did.”
Violet’s blood boiled, and she grabbed a fist full of his hair, forcing him to look at her. His eyes widened.
“Practicing? Who is she?” If he said Marissa, she would kill them both.
The violence coursing through her took her by surprise, and she released him, scooting back, terrified of her own reaction. That wasn’t like her. She didn’t want to kill people. Usually.
He grinned wickedly and reached for her. She pushed his hand away, but it did no good. Roman evaded her attempts to ward him off and wrapped a hand around her knee, yanking her to him. “Jealousy looks good on you, princess.” He tried to kiss her, but she snapped her teeth at him. “I didn’t use a woman.”
“Then who arethey,” she corrected herself through gritted teeth.
His smile widened, and she wanted to scream. “It is what Slayton’s brother calls a fist cunt.” Violet blinked at him. “It’s a toy of sorts that men use to mimic the feel of a pussy.”
Violet’s jaw dropped. “Afist cunt?” Roman nodded. “What kind of stupid name is that?”
The prince shrugged. “It’s a pretty accurate description.” Blond strands stuck up in every direction as he ran a hand through his hair. “Feels great, but not great enough, apparently, if feeling you fall apart on my fingers made me soak my pants.”
Violet couldn’t get the mental image of Roman fucking a fake pussy out of her mind. “I want to watch you,” she whispered.
“Fuck.” He said the curse so quietly she almost hadn’t heard it. “Keep talking like that and I’ll be ready to go in no time.”
The carriage came to a halt, interrupting their conversation, and someone knocked on the door. “We’re stopping for the night.” The sound made Violet’s heart pound, and she clung to Roman in desperation. The abrupt noise thrust her back into her teenage self, hiding under Roman’s bed.
Roman pulled Violet into his side, running a soothing hand over her hair. “It’s just Griff or Ares,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”
The beat of Violet’s heart slowed, and the embarrassment at her reaction filled her cheeks. “Sorry. I’ve gotten better, but the attack at the border stirred up old habits.”
“Never apologize,” Roman ordered. “Never.”
“We’re stopping for the night,” Ares called through the door.
Roman looked at his pants with dismay, and Violet covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
“It’s not funny,” he grumbled, but it only made her laugh harder. “You know this means they’ll know we did something when they see it, don’t you?” He grinned.
The color drained from Violet’s face. Mortified, she looked around the empty carriage for a solution. “Climb backwards out of the carriage and I’ll jump into your arms. My dress will cover your pants, then you can change in our room.”
The mischievous glint reappeared in Roman’s eyes. “No. I think I’ll let them see.”
“Roman Covington, I swear to the gods,” she whisper-yelled.
He winked and opened the carriage door. It would sadden her to lose him now that she had him as her own, but it couldn’t be avoided because she was going to kill him.
28
Violet sat at a lavish table in a private room of the inn where she, Roman, Ares, and Griff were staying for the night. She thanked the server as he placed a plate in front of her. Amos and Clover had dined in their room, and War had disappeared into the jungle to hunt for his own dinner.
“I’m starving,” she said to herself and picked up the roast sandwich to dip in the gravy.
Roman stiffened. “You never said you were hungry.”
Violet lifted a teasing brow. “I was preoccupied.”
“I’m trying to eat here,” Griff complained across the table. “I don’t want to hear about you two fucking in the carriage. It’s bad enough we had to hear it in real time.”
Violet gasped, and Roman’s hand shot across the table, wrapping around Griff’s neck. “You will forget every sound she made.”
