Page 70 of Veil of Night & Flames

He shakes his head. “I just like seeing you like that. Puttering around the kitchen. Making it ours, not mine.”

“Yeah?” The word is little more than breath.

He nods, and the flutters in my chest morph into a gentle warmth, the kind I feel when I’m lost in his arms. And right then, I wish I could say anything except what I need to say. Which is why instead of talking, I bury the words under a crumbly pastry I didn’t even bother to heat up.

“Just tell me,” he says, once my hands are empty and I’ve wiped the crumbs from my mouth.

“That transparent?”

“Let’s just say that being a card shark is not a legit choice for your future career. Go ahead. I can take it. Hell, I already know it. You’re going to my brother.”

“I’m going to his library,” I say, crossing to sit beside him again. “But, yeah. I have to go tonight. Tia gave me a list of books, and I’m hoping Uncle Finn or the library can help me find them.”

“So no Adric?”

I glance down at my hands. “He’s on my list, too.” I reach for his hand, then squeeze it. “Why don’t you come with me?”

He pulls his hand free and laughs, the sound harsh. “Cora, listen to yourself. Do you really expect me to chaperone you to my brother’s bed? I think once was enough.”

I wince, but he’s right. It was a stupid thing to say, especially knowing how hard it had been for him to present me to Adric at the betrothal ceremony.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask to care about both of you.”

He pulls me to him, his mouth closing over mine for the kind of kiss that is long and claiming and makes every cell in my body tingle.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, breaking the kiss. “Be honest.” His fingers twine with mine. “I’m not asking you to feel guilty. I’m asking you not to dress it up for me. You’re going to him. I know you’re going. Hell, I agreed to it. You don’t have to soften it.”

I nod, still feeling awkward and weird, even though he’s right. He did agree. So did Adric. Hell, so did I.

“It’s hard,” I say finally. “Watching it be difficult for you.”

“I made my choice.”

I nod. “Even so.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, as if he’s memorizing my face. Then he pulls me gently to him, his cheek against my hair, and I let myself sink against him as I marvel at the strength of this man.

“Chase.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I know,” he says. “I love you, too.”

His mouth finds the side of my throat—and I tilt my head to let him have more of it. He kisses his way up the side of my neck, then teases my earlobe before whispering, “Before you go…”

“Yes, please,” I murmur, and even as my words linger in the air, he’s shifted me in his arms, his mouth capturing mine in a way that says we’re done with softness. This is about claiming, and then he kisses me again like a man with something to settle—but whether the battle is with me or Adric or himself, I don’t know. More than that, I don’t care. I just want this—his mouth on mine, his hand sliding up under my shirt, his palm cupping my breast as his thumb teases my nipple, and I feel an echoing need between my legs that makes me whimper.

“Off,” he murmurs against my throat, his hands now at the hem of my shirt, and I lift my arms and let him drag it over my head. He unclasps my bra and lets it fall onto the couch cushions.

“Fold out the bed?” he asks.

“Don’t you dare stop to do that,” I say, and he laughs, then helps my fumbling effort to get his shirt off.

“Much better,” I say, because we’re skin against skin now, at least above the waist, and I moan as he kisses his way down my throat, my collarbone, the slope of my breast. Then his hands are working the buttons of my jeans and shoving the denim down my hips with no patience at all. I kick free of them, thankful I slipped off my shoes earlier.

He stands just long enough to strip off the rest of his clothes, and the look on his face as he sits on the sofa and orders me to straddle him is enough to make me melt—a combination of power and lust and need that makes me wetter than I can remember being.