“I very much wanted to be here.” Rowan was looking away again, his shoulders stiffening. He tapped his foot on the floor in a regular rhythm. “But also not.”
Rowan was wound so tight that unraveling the layers of him might take an entire lifetime. But I wanted to, so so much. I ached to dive inside him and swallow up his pain.
“So what happened?” I pressed.
Rowan turned back to me, but the look on his face said he was done with talking. His lips found mine, grazing my skin with such exquisite tenderness that my body melted against his. He slid the tray off our legs and I laid back on my pillow. Rowan leaned over me.
His hands slid down my naked shoulders, pulling down the edge of the sheet and exposing my skin, inch by inch.
I reached up and tangled my hands in Rowan’s dreadlocks, loving the way they fell down the sides of his face and brushed mine. He was exquisite. I’d never met a guy as beautiful as him before, inside or out.
Rowan gasped against my lips as his hand cupped my breast. His touch shot fire through me. I leaned deeper into the pillows, sinking into a cloud of Egyptian cotton as I lifted my arms and pulled his shirt over his head. Rowan bent his face over me, taking my nipple in his mouth.
His mouth was so soft, so sweet, so delicious – just like his baking.
His hands trailed over my skin, like butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. Rowan slid out of his trousers and dropped them on the floor, rolling on top of me and encasing me in the heat of his body.
I opened my legs for him, and he sighed – a happy sound, soft and beautiful, a great release of tension. Rowan ducked his head, his dreadlocks falling over his face, hiding his face from me as he hid so much of himself.
My fingers clamped the sheets as Rowan’s tongue slid between my folds. Slow, languid, heavenly. I savored every delicious moment. Each stroke reverberated through my whole body, oozing through my veins like liquid honey.
The ache inside me hummed as it grew, pressing against my skin, demanding to be free. Right behind it was the pillar of fire – my spirit magic flaring up, raised from the ashes by Rowan’s devotion.
Rowan’s hands gripped my thighs, pushing my legs up to get better access. His dreadlocks fanned across my stomach and his tongue…oh, that tongue…
“If I’d known I’d be interrupting a party between Maeve’s legs,” a strange voice said from the doorway, “I’d have brought some crisps.”
I yelped, my heart hammering, remembering how Daigh whispered in my ear before we managed to close the gateway. Rowan’s eyes bugged out. He leapt back, toppling off the end of the bed and landing on the floor with a thud. I yanked the sheets up around my neck, but not before Blake had gotten a long, languid look at the goods.
My cheeks burned.Can this bed just swallow me up now?
But underneath the embarrassment, the magic still coursed through my veins. And I found myself hoping that both boys would crawl on the bed, roll down the sheets, and wrap themselves around my body…
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” I demanded, pulling the sheets over my face so I didn’t have to look at Blake and he couldn’t see how embarrassed or turned on I was. “Or did they not do that in the fae realm, either.”
“Daigh didn’t like doors and Ididknock, Princess. Several times. When you didn’t answer I thought you might still be asleep. I came in to make sure myvery importantmessage reached you.”
From under the sheets, I could hear Rowan scrambling for his clothes.
“I’m awake. Give me the message and get out.”
“I came to tell you that Corbin wanted to see us all in the library.” Even though I couldn’t see his face, IknewBlake was smirking. It was like his smirk penetrated behind my eyelids. “Now that I’m aware of the hidden joys of being the messenger in this house, I won’t complain about it.”
I yanked a pillow from behind my head and threw it at the door. Blake broke into laughter and his footsteps descended the tower steps. I lowered the top of the sheet as Rowan scrambled to his feet. “I’d better go,” he mumbled, pulling on his shirt.
“You don’t have to?—”
“Enjoy the scones.” Rowan was already racing down the stairs, his dreadlocks flying around his face.
I rubbed my cheeks, but I could still feel the heat in them. My heart still hadn’t returned to normal. My pussy ached, urgently demanding attention, but there was no way I could deal with anything likethatnow, not after the shock of Blake turning up. I rolled out of bed, found an a-line skirt and a lilac V-neck tank that showed off my cleavage, and pulled them on. I ran a brush through my hair a few times (pixie cut for the win), swiped some eyeliner on, and went downstairs.
Blake’s crystalline eyes zeroed in on mine as soon as I entered the library, and the heat flared in my cheeks again.He licked his bottom lip, and my heart thudded…but not from embarrassment.
I remembered Blake’s fingers between my legs at the sidhe, and how good it felt to be pressed between two guys like that, both of them pleasuring me to call up my power…
My spirit magic hummed in my veins, brimming against my skin from where Rowan had touched me, ready to be put to use. I folded my legs, hoping Blake couldn’t sense how much I wanted to be doing something else other than discussing our fairy issue right now.
I tore my gaze from Blake and noticed that everyone else was here as well. Corbin sat at his desk, flipping through the pages of the coven’s grimoire, which now bore a distinctive round arrow hole through every page. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and I noticed his fingers shook a little as he turned the page. Rowan was right – he’d barely slept. And for Corbin – who often stayed up late reading – that was saying something.
