“God, Majesty.”
“Tell me what you want.” His hand stilled just inches from where I was soaking wet for him.
“I want you to make me forget everything but this.”
“Greedy girl.” But his hand moved higher, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties. I was so wet I knew he could feel it, and the groan he made confirmed it.
“Please.”
“Not tonight.” He pulled his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss. “Tonight, we just kiss.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life’s not fair.” He captured my mouth again, kissing me thoroughly, his tongue claiming every inch. His hips pressed against mine, and I could feel exactly how hard he was.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, desperate for friction, for relief. He ground against me slowly, the barrier of our clothes the only thing separating us, and it was torture.
“Majesty, please.” I was panting now. “I need more.”
“What you need,” he said, pulling back to look at me, his eyes dark and intense, “is to learn patience.”
“I hate patience.”
“I know.” He kissed me again, softer this time. “But anticipation makes everything better. Trust me.”
“I do trust you. That’s the problem.”
His smile was wicked. “Not a problem. A gift.”
We kissed for what felt like hours. Learning each other. Building the tension higher and higher with no release. By the time he finally pulled away, I was shaking with need, my body aching, my mind spinning.
“I should go,” he said, but he didn’t move.
“I know.” I didn’t let go of him.
“Cami.”
“I know.” I released him reluctantly, even though every part of me wanted him to stay. “But I don’t want you to.”
“That makes two of us.” He pressed one last kiss to my forehead. “But I’m going anyway. Because if I don’t leave now, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking this further. And you deserve better than that. You deserve both of us, fully present, fully committed.”
“When?”
“Soon.” He climbed out of bed and grabbed his shoes. “But not tonight. Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we do this again. And the next day, and the day after that. Until you’re so thoroughly ours that there’s no question about where you belong.”
I pulled the covers up, my body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire. “You really are cruel.”
“Patient,” he corrected with a smile. “There’s a difference.”
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
He paused at the door. “Sweet dreams, Cami. Dream about what we’re going to do to you when you’re ready.”
“How will I know when I’m ready?”
“You’ll beg us for it.” He opened the door. “And we won’t be able to say no.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone in my bed, aching and frustrated and more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
