Page 122 of Creatures that Breathe

“Take a minute,” he commands, voice tight with hunger. “You’re about to be breathless.”

Aren’t I already?

I smile hard enough to sting my cheeks as he trails a finger down my throat, and over my shoulder. “Sweaty,” he murmurs, following his touch with a lingering kiss. “Pretty.” He tucks a strand of sky blue behind my ear. “I should tell you that more.”

“I like that you don’t.” I admit, blushing as his eyes snap up to mine. “I know you find me attractive. My kind are somewhat known for it, and a princess is expected to be beautiful.” A small knot clogs my throat. Do not cry. “It’s all anyone thinks of me. Pretty, stupid, good for one thing. You never mention it. You make me feel like an equal.”

Like I could go toe to toe with the foremost spy of the realm. Like we could chase and evade each other for the rest of eternity. Spend eons doing both just to keep crashing into each other.

I love you.

It’s what I wish I could say. What I’d whisper to him right now, right when I’m drowning with it, if we did have time.

We don’t. Life isn’t rainbows and unicorns and I’m not actually a princess, so I take Cross’s face, stroke my thumbs across those aristocratic cheekbones, and warn him, “If we do this, Draven will come after you. He’ll demand revenge.”

“If we do, or don’t, I will hunt him down, corner him like a lame deer and demand nothing. I will simply gouge from him what he tried to take from you, and should he survive such gratuitous pain”—he kisses my forehead, voice deadly as a knife’s edge—“I’ll take his life with my bare hands.”

“He’s not worth it.”

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head as if he can’t fathom my defense. A second later, his lips slant over mine, hot and wrenching and raw. I dissolve into the force of his hold, feeling light as air.

Perfect.

Hadn’t I said he’d be perfect?

I love being right. That’s why my eyes burn. Pride.

Nothing else.

Liar.

Our noses brush, his hand fists my hair, his soft brown lashes cast sleek shadows over dark hooded eyes. “You are,” he seethes. “You are so unbelievably worth it.”

His mouth finds the flesh of my breasts, parting against the skin and sucking, while through mastery of movement, he divests himself of his jeans and underwear.

No one with their sanity intact could smother a gasp at the sight of the Blackguard’s spymaster, the master of secrets, the nameless man, the shadow master, utterly naked, chest rising, eyes like black fire.

“Bless the Fates,” I mutter, heart pounding.

“Way ahead of you.” He grins, and it’s a shot of lust to my body, as piercing as Poseidon’s trident.

His palm glides down the solid slab of his stomach and the V of his hips to stroke his rigid length. I die a little. Suffocating because I can’t remember how to breathe.

My pulse hammers, desperately pumping blood through my veins as Cross’s big hand squeezes, hair flopping into his forehead.

Greedy, I tug him into me, yank him to his elbows, chest against my ribs, hips nestled in the cradle of my thighs. All that delicious length threatening.

Every muscle between my thighs clenches.

“We don’t need protection,” I tell him, squirming, greedily exploring his scorching skin. “I’m not fertile right now.” Not yet at least.

Cross’s finger strokes a tantalizing path along my core. “Gods above, you’re so wet.” His lips latch onto my peaked nipple, tugging it between his teeth, sending a delicious sting through me. “Are you sure?”

I nod, and let my eyes fall shut, hand snaking around his neck to tangle in his silky hair. Slowly, hissing into the sensitive skin of my neck, Cross pushes inside of me.

The pain simmers, a stinging stretch of overfull, of unfamiliar.

He claims my mouth harshly, flaring the heat in my blood, until it’s twisting and tangling into a consuming vortex, and I forget the discomfort. My body goes lax as he fills me up, so full I’m afraid I’ll splinter, break under the intensity.

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