Page 93 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

He took another step forward, the moonlight illuminating more of his face. “But then I’d be the worst version of myself. My anxiety would grow, my need to control would grow along with it. I’d isolate myself, work myself too hard, and then I’d spiral when everything still felt out of control, and I wouldn’t know why any of it was happening.”

I sniffled, eyeing him warily.

“Castle chose you for me. Castle knew I needed a wife who would challenge me, who wouldn’t be afraid to tell me the truth. Whose voice would be loud enough, powerful enough, to silence that voice telling me I’m not enough.”

He reached out and cupped my face, tilting my head so that I was forced to look up into his dark brown eyes.

“So yes, I could have this wife you described. But I wouldn’t be happy. I might love her, see her as devoted, but it wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t compare to what I have with you. No one else will do for me, Aoife. No one but my warrior queen.”

My heart swelled so big it felt like it took over my entire chest. “I love you.” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them. “I’m never going to be that docile wife, Lor. I’ll always be temperamental and argumentative and stubborn.”

He wrapped his arms around me so that I had to tilt my head further to look up at him.

“You want to know a secret?” he asked. “I love you more because of those things—not in spite of them.”

He thumbed away a stray tear, and I sniffled again.

“Is Fairtine ruined because of me?”

“No, I’d wager it’s still going strong. Ambrose was starting up another song when I chased after you. And I saw several more jugs of wine being passed around. Everyone is one edge, and they need this distraction. Do you want to go back?”

“Not really,” I said, and he winced. “But not because it wasn’t perfect. I loved it, but I just⁠—”

“You what?” he asked, thumb still brushing my cheek, stroking back and forth.

“I want to be alone with my husband,” I finished.

His eyes went black and feral, his voice low as he said, “I think we can definitely arrange that.”

CHAPTER 51

Aoife

Lor pushed me up against the vanity in his room, devouring me with his mouth. His hands went to the lace in the back of my dress, and he began undoing it, fingers deft and quick. I fumbled for the laces on his trousers, desperate to have as little clothing between us as possible.

The back of my dress opened up, and Lor tugged it off me, leaving me only in my panties. He lifted his arms overhead, and I yanked his tunic off, throwing it somewhere behind us.

He stepped back before I could grab for his trousers again, and his gaze raked down my body, slow and languid and setting every inch of me on fire. “I’m going to touch every single part of you, and then I’m going to kiss every single part of you, and then, when you’re desperate and begging for me, then I’m going to fuck you.”

“That’s a lot of confidence,” I said, even as my thighs trembled, an ache forming between my legs. He stalked toward me like a predator, his eyes dark and ravenous. I’d been naked in front of him many times now, felt his hard length, come because of his cock, his fingers, his mouth. But somehow this felt different, the air between us charged, crackling with desire . . . and something else. Something deeper.

His large hands stroked my cheeks, and he ran them down to my shoulders, then my breasts. He palmed both and let out a grunt. “I could just touch these, suck these, and I’d come so fucking hard.”

He grabbed my ass and heaved me up so I was sitting against the vanity behind me.

I gasped as he rolled my nipple between his fingers, and my head fell back. He trailed his palm down the length of my torso and touched every curve and dip, and then his fingers hooked under my panties and slid them down my legs, kneeling in front of me. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation of the fabric and his fingers scraping against my skin. I lifted a foot and kicked off the thin material.

Lor still knelt at my feet, gazing up and drinking me in. “Should I start down here first?” He pressed a kiss to my calf, then dragged his tongue up my leg and to my inner thigh. Heat flared every place his tongue touched, and the ache grew to a pounding throb between my legs.

“Lor.” His name came out as a plea.

His tongue moved toward my center, and my legs spread open wider for him.

“Patience, my stubborn queen,” he said, lips pressing into my folds. He parted them and licked up the center, and a delicious shudder ran through me, but it wasn’t enough. I nudged my pelvis toward him, and his chuckle reverberated through me.

His mouth skimmed toward my other thigh. A growl of frustration escaped my lips. “I want you inside me. Now.”

He licked his way up to my stomach. “Mm, you know I like to stick to my plans.”