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Ciaran sleeps on his stomach beside me, dark hair mussed across his forehead, one arm trapped beneath the pillow while the other stays locked around me like even asleep he refuses to let me go. The sheets sit low against his hips, warm skin disappearing into shadow beneath the blankets.

I just stare at him.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

I remember Ciaran nearly killing Adrian in the fight pit. Our self-proclaimed date that somehow ended with him between my thighs while I choked around his gorgeous cock and swallowed every drop he gave me…

I untangle the sheets and look down at my very naked frame.

Good Light. I sucked his dick.

Heat floods my face so fast it hurts as the memories crash into me—Ciaran’s mouth wrapped around me, my hands in his hair, the taste of him still lingering at the back of my throat while he groaned around my cock like he enjoyed it.

And yet, my own cock throbs painfully at the thought.

This is a disaster.

Worse, he came for me last night.

Out of everyone in Caervast, I called him.

The shame.

I scan the massive room and exhale in relief when I see the neat pile of what are hopefully my clothes lying on an armchair.

I’ll just quickly get dressed, leave, and we’ll never mention this again.

My focus sharpens on the room around me. Dark wallpaper patterned with curling leaves wraps the walls while a lamp in the corner spills soft orange light across the wooden floor. The whole place feels restrained and elegant in a way that’s painfully Ciaran. Nothing like the disaster zone I share with Damaris.

I should go. But moonlight catches the sharp line of Ciaran’s jaw and swollen lips in a way that’s weirdly mesmerizing, his inked arm still slung around my naked waist, his long fingers resting dangerously close to my erection.

And before I can stop myself, my fingertips brush lightly along the bare curve of his shoulder beneath the sheets, tracing warm skin and the faint edge of black ink there while he keeps sleeping beside me like he has no idea what he’s done to my head.

My body clearly doesn’t get the memo that we’re leaving, but my brain does. I can already picture Ciaran waking up, finding me still in his bed, and telling me to get the hell out.

Careful not to wake him, I try to lift Ciaran’s arm from around my waist, but it doesn’t work. Even asleep, the bastard only tightens his grip and drags me closer against him with a low sound somewhere between a breath and a sigh, burying his face deeper against the back of my neck like this is the most natural thing in the world.

“Are you serious?” I whisper, but Ciaran sleeps on peacefully, because of course he does.

Finally, I manage to untangle myself, wincing as my feet touch the cold floor beside the bed while the memory of Ciaran’s mouth threatens to drag me right back under again.

That’s not happening. Not with the Legacy Gala tonight.

I dress quickly, fingers clumsy against buttons while flashes of last night keep replaying in humiliating detail.

By the time I pull my shirt back on, moonlight has softened silver-blue across the tangled bed behind me. Ciaran sleeps on, one arm stretched across the empty space I left behind, and before I can think too hard about the tight feeling in my chest, I turn and slip out of the bedroom.

A guard waits near the doors, his gaze following me across the black stone floor before he unlocks the exit without a word.

The mansion feels different in the pale light of dawn, stripped of Lucan’s laughter and Rafe’s commentary, leaving only guards and silence behind.

Cold night air hits my face the second I step outside. A shaky breath finally leaves my lungs as dawn bleeds silver across Caervast on the walk back to the dorm.

I can’t believe I did that.

But Light, last night was nothing like I expected. I get it now—the fuss. Watching Ciaran suck me to climax was the single hottest thing I’ve ever seen.