Page 64 of Princess Avenged

I shake my head. I don’t think I can bear to hear it, because if she loves Phil, if she loves Blade, it doesn’t seem possible that she could love me too.

“I love you because of your appreciation for art—for all things beautiful.”

“Beautiful things like you?” My voice comes out hoarse but carries the joking tone I was shooting for. At least that part of me is working again.

Her nose crinkles, and a crease appears between her eyebrows. She’s annoyed by my quip, but then a smile brushes over her lips. Lips I long to devour again.

I bend toward them, but her hand stops me.

“I haven’t finished.”

“Believe me, I know.” Grinning, I flick my fingers through her swollen folds.

Her body pulses, but then stiffens. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Need to get something off your chest?” I kiss one of her breasts, then the other. “Is this it? Or this?” I tug on her nipples in turn as I question her.

“Flame.” Her voice comes out sharply. “I need you to believe me.”

“Believe that you’re desperate for my cock?” I slide a finger inside her and she arches up off the rock.

“Please.” She tenses around me.

“You want two?” I add another.

She struggles, and I withdraw my intrusion, positioning my face right above hers. She doesn’t really love me, but I’m ruining the mood, so I’ll let her claim it.

“Say what you have to say then,” I tell her cooly. “Get it out, so we can both get what we need.”

“I can’t even remember what I was saying.” Her eyes fill with frustration and worry. “You’ve got me so confused.”

“Something about art?” I tip my head to the side.

“Oh, yes.” She smiles, and her eyes light up again. “I do love that about you. I love your genuine appreciation for beautiful, even delicate things, and how that contrasts with your ruggedness, your overt masculinity.” Her fingers brush over my chest. “But even more, I love the way you’re able to read people.”

“Read people? Blade’s the one who reads.”

“You always know how the others are feeling. Sometimes before they know themselves.” Her fingers trace around my nipple. “You’re very sensitive.”

“Right now, one part of me is very fucking sensitive.” Rising higher out of the water, I rub my cock through her folds.

She sucks in a breath but shakes her head. “Flame, you can joke all you want. You can use humor to deflect your sensitivity. You can act tough to mask it, but at heart, deep down, you’re a sensitive soul.” She lays her hand firmly on my chest and my heart tries to escape into her touch.

“Sometimes your ability to read me drives me crazy,” she says, “because it means I can’t hide my feelings from you.” Her fingers slide over my chest, teasing the curly hairs there. “But tonight—” her eyes fill with worry “—right now, it’s like you can’t read me at all.”

“I disagree.” I slide my rock-hard dick through her swollen folds. “I think I’m reading you loud and clear.”

“Flame!” My name escapes her lips on a sigh that’s part desperation, part exasperation. “Flame, why won’t you believe me? Why won’t you believe that I love you?”

Every part of my body seizes. Shifting off her, I stagger back.

My feet slip off the shelf of rock and I fall into the water.

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

Ana

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