And more.
The sight of her fingers glistening with my cum and ring has me hardening anew. Evidently, she notices because a corner of her gorgeous mouth wings up.
“I was trying to act like a gentleman and take it slow,” I grouse, tilting her jaw up with my thumb. “But you leave me no choice.”
Her pupils dilate.
“I want you naked with your legs spread for me,xhina.”
Her pulse jumps. Her throat tightens. Her eyes flash. “I’m not your wife,” she gusts out.
Remembering that she has wings and a home she longs to return to, I decide not to frighten her with my resolve to keep her always. Instead, I recapture her parted lips and pilot her toward the bed.
When the backs of her knees meet the mattress, I ease her down, folding over her to keep our mouths fused. My hand ventures down the side of her body, shaping her spectacular curves before swirling over her thigh. Her breathing turns labored when I drive the heel of my palm against her core, pressing and relaxing in firm waves that has her squirming beneath me.
I break our kiss, but only so I can watch her. Her cheeks are rosy and smudged with kohl I must’ve unsettled with my nose. Her eyes are glass-bright. I keep kneading her through her leathers, delighting in the little sounds she makes and how briskly her chest is pumping.
I press a kiss to the underside of her jaw. “Shall we take these off?” My hand is already cresting her mound toward the elasticized waistband.
“Wait. Konstantin. Wait.” She claps my wrist, and I freeze, afraid I’ve pushed her too far, until she blusters out, “There was someone—watching us.”
I twist my head toward the door, but she grips my chin and levers my head. “From up there.”
Though no face peers down at us, there are handprints in the snow.
I see red as I lurch to my feet, hooking my trousers back into place. “What did they look like?”
“They wore a hood. I couldn’t…” Her voice fades along with her body.
When I spot her shadows streaking toward the glass, I shout, “Isla, no! Wait! Don’t go out there!”
But does my fiancée listen? Of course not.
I storm out of her chamber, yelling at Borat to fly and warn the wardens supposed to guard my fucking grounds to find the lurker. “And Imogen! Find Imogen!”
I tear up my stairs like a bear awakened from hibernation in the dead of winter. I will murder the spy, and then I will wrap my chain around Isla’s neck so she cannot just up and fucking leave me behind.
Just as I reach the esplanade, a body capsizes at my feet with a high-pitched cry.
29
ISLA
Iland and molt a second after I’ve dropped Sofiya at Konstantin’s feet.
He simmers with such fury that the air around his body trembles. At first, I’m the recipient of his anger. I’ve no need for a mental connection to figure out why. I heard him growl at me to stay put, but how could I, when our peeping Jane could’ve volatized herself by the time his guards went looking for her?
A small smile scoots itself onto my lips now that the threat—which was, in all honesty, not much of a threat—has been neutralized. “Do you still doubt your king’s affection for me, Sofiya, or was the scene you were privy to full of enough sparks to dispel your doubts?”
“Isla.” Konstantin’s sharp tone extinguishes my delight.
I suspect he’s about to reprimand me for alluding to what we were doing in front of his soldiers. I’m wrong. He’s holding out his hand.
For me.
Once I slot my fingers through his, he moves his stare onto the kneeling woman and snarls, “What were you doing on my roof, spying on my wife?”
There he goes again, calling me hiswife. Granted, the Glacin term is slicker on the tongue than the more complex syllables that make upbetrothed, but it does give me pause, since Konstantin Korol is a man who selects his words carefully. The male is clearly intent on tying me down.
