But the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that’s ever mattered—splits me open, leaving me powerful and fragile all at once.
Nothing about the kiss is gentle—not the sharp clack of his teeth as they knock against mine, not the rough scrape of his stubble against my cheeks and chin, not the bruising grip of his fingers on my thighs.
Instead of drowning in the Tides, I’m drowning in him.
I used to think I had control. But pressed between stone and shadow, with my husband’s hands branding my skin—I realize howweakhe makes me.
I grind against him, desperate for more, aching for his touch, I—
The door flings open with a loudbang.
Feminine chatter, followed by a sharp, scandalized gasp.
Silence.
Zev breaks the kiss, and I squint against the sudden onslaught of light.
“Come back later,” Zev growls, turning his attention back to me.
I recognize Farzina amongst the servants.
“Wait! Wait,” I call out as embarrassing heat rushes to my face. I push at Zev’s chest, but I may as well have been shoving a brick wall.
My eyes lock with his in a fierce glare. His gaze is dark, swirling with unbridled lust. Reluctantly, he sets me down. My legs wobble, knees nearly buckling, and my husband steadies me with a firm hand around my waist.
Eyes downcast, I scurry out of the supply closet, Zev close on my heels. I can’t bring myself to meet Farzina’s eyes. Quickly whipping around a corner, I stride away, heat scorching my cheeks.
Except Zev’s footsteps thud after me, refusing to let me escape.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. My face is still flaming.
“My wife seems to have misplaced her guards,” he rumbles, giving me a knowing smirk, though it’s edged with something sharp. “I’m ensuring she returns to our chambers safely. And”—he snakes his arm around my waist in a possessive grip—“if she wanted to continue what we began in the closet, I’m happy to oblige her.”
I almost tell him I want nothing of the sort, but the throbbing ache between my thighs calls me a liar.
So I don’t say anything.
We walk in silence, Zev melded to my side, reaching our chambers when I have a sudden thought.
I whirl. “What wereyoudoing in the closet?”
He’s silent for a heartbeat, then says, “I was hiding from my brother, too.”
He braces one arm against the door jamb, towering over me in the hallway. “Have you decided, wife? Can I come inside?” His voice is sinfully low. So deep, so decadent, I nearly say yes.
I bite my lower lip. “You don’t need permission to enter your own chambers.”
He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear, melting the resolve I’m desperately clinging to. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”
I want to say yes. Tides, I want to say yes.
But I shouldn’t. I can’t.
My breath catches. I swallow hard. “Your—your brother is looking for you.”
He blinks. Just once. Then the smile that lit his face dims, and he steps back.
I catch the flicker of hurt, mingled with disappointment, that flashes through his eyes. He gives me a curt nod before walking away.
