Page 97 of Crowned By the Fae King

Cass had his shirt half-unbuttoned and was watching me with a soft expression, his wings lax behind him. At my regard, he flushed, the heat of his embarrassment redoubling my blush, and started busily undoing the buttons under his other wing. "Being admired?" he asked with his ears dropped low, not looking at me.

"Very much so," I said, not taking my eyes off him.

He stilled and looked back up at me with his dark brows lifting in the center. His longing sang to me, more enticing than any siren's call. "Even though you can feel me doing it?" he asked, eyes on my face. "Even though I'm as unfettered with you as I am?"

A slow smile spread across my face. I turned and sauntered towards the hot spring, giving my steps some sway for him to admire. "Especially because I can feel it." I stepped into the searing heat of the pool and almost moaned from the contrast to the biting cold of the air. It made me shiver as I sank into the water and turned to watch Cass tug his shirt over his head. "Especially because you can't hold back."

His muscles flexed, the broad expanse of his bare chest the sort of vista worth staring at and his pebbled nipples making me want to lick him—though, honestly, most of the time I wanted to lick him. Cass hesitated, blushing again, then turned and put his back to me, hands going to his waist and wings closing to hide the view of his excellent ass.

"This is harder with you watching me," he said. Tension sang through me, a silvery sensation that settled between my legs in a pleasant ache.

"Harder, you say?" I asked, sprawling back and not taking my eyes off of him. "Tell me more."

Cass snorted, his chin dropping. He stripped out of his pants and hung them over a branch. "More difficult," he corrected. He glanced over his shoulder and flashed me a boyish smile. "But also harder."

I caught a glimpse of the side of his bare thigh as he did and bit my lip, a surge of desire that was all mine amplifying the echoes of want I got from him. Goddamn, but those were incredible legs. Him being shy about it was only making every glimpse I got of his body more erotic. I got why ankles in the eighteenth century were titillating when a flash of the side of Cass' naked leg gave me heart palpitations.

"Close your eyes," he said.

I obeyed with a pout and crossed my arms over my chest like a petulant child. His laugh rumbled across the clearing. I heard the snow crunch underfoot and the champagne pop, and then the water in the pool rose and spilled over the rim into the next one as Cass settled into the water with me.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" I asked, when he stopped moving.

He chuckled again, a warm sound. "You can open your eyes."

I cracked one to find Cass sprawled in the pool on his stomach, his weight resting on his elbows on the stone rim of the pool and his body curled in a loose curve around me. The steam was condensing on the feathers of his wings, tracking down the dark metal lengths. The hot water brought a flush to his skin, one that matched the light blush rouging both our faces.

My eyes flickered down Cass' body without my command. He was so there, that long expanse of brown skin impossible not to look at, heavy and solid and as powerful as a tiger. One thigh was pulled forward, hiding his groin but baring the inner thigh of his other leg, and fuck if that didn't do things to me. I wanted my face right there, teeth on his smooth skin, and I wanted to bite him so hard that even my healer-King would feel it. I wanted him to let me—to beg for it; to give me everything without me even having to ask. To lay himself out like a feast for me, and let me devour everything he was.

"Oh, wow," I breathed, unable to haul my eyes away from their tour of Cass' naked body, even half-obscured beneath the steaming water.

He held up a glass of champagne in front of my eyeline. I jumped and immediately turned crimson, but Cass only smiled at me, his ears tilting forward in focused attention. He was wearing the earrings I liked, the ones he thought were too delicate for someone like him. The silver chains swung as he moved. I hadn't even noticed.

"That's quite the reward, lioness," he said softly, letting his fingers brush against mine. His longing fluttered through me like a bright-winged butterfly, all sparkly and delicate. "If I'd known the outfit to make myself the center of your attention was nothing at all, I would've taken you out on a date myself."

I swallowed, hard, gripping the stem of the champagne flute. Condensation dripped down my fingers, chill in the steamy air.

Cass, naked. Inches away. Looking at me like there was no one else in the world for him.

"You don't like being the center of attention," I said, desperately trying to maintain some semblance of sanity. Cass. Naked. Right there. Naked.

His smile broadened into a grin. "I like being the center of yours."

My eyes slid down his body again before I managed to yank them back up to his face. My pulse pounded between my legs, hot and needy, but the only thing I could feel from Cass was total contentment, like he was a cat and I was his patch of sunlight.

"You can't just say stuff like that." My mouth was dry. I took a swig of the champagne, not even tasting it.

He dropped his chin into one hand and flicked an ear at me, making the chains swing. "Why not?" he asked, that lazy, hundred-watt smile not dimming. "Does it trouble my Queen to be the focus of such avarice?"

I drank more champagne, considered the flute, and tossed the rest of it back. "It troubles your Queen to have the Court she wants to conquer sprawled out in front of her while she's powerless to do anything about it," I said frankly, holding my glass out to him for a refill. "You are way too gorgeous not to be troubled about."

Cass took my empty glass and gave me his, instead. "Quyen," he said, breathing a quiet laugh. He licked off the lip-mark I'd left in the condensation with sensuous care. "We're on a date."

He reached over to pour more champagne, and leaned his thigh against my shin.

I went totally still, because if I moved then Cass might notice that he was touching me. Then I wouldn't get to feel the strength of his focus, the way the heat shimmered along his wings, his eager anticipation, the perfect, silvery, glittering feeling of touching me—

I made myself breathe. He knew. Of course he knew. Even when he was alone with me, it was hard for him to drop his guard. He had his leg against mine because he'd put it there on purpose.

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