Page 52 of Thrones We Steal

I hesitate, consider if protecting Bea’s heart is worth it. The way she’s been acting lately, probably not.

But I’d be lying if I denied the animalistic curiosity surging through me. Does kissing him deserve the hype it gets? I hate that I’m dying to know what those lips feel like, taste like.

Those same lips part ever so slightly under my stare, and the movement is a siren to my core. I can’t trust Bea to stay immune, but at least I won’t fall for Henry’s charms.

I close my eyes, unsure if I hate Henry or myself more. “Fine. Deal.” I say it quickly, before I can change my mind.

A mischievous glint lights his eyes. “Should we do it now? Or would you prefer a more romantic setting?”

“Just get it over with,” I hiss.

“Your wish is my command.”

“In that case, why don’t you go squat in a cactus patch?”

He throws back his head and laughs. The effect is magical. Henry comes alive when he laughs, truly laughs. My insides clench with a familiar ache.

The corners of his eyes are still crinkled in amusement as he approaches. He keeps his gaze locked with mine and slowly slips one hand around my waist. The other slides up to cradle my jaw.

I forget my own name.

He leans forward and rests his forehead on mine. His scent swirls around us like a cloud of intoxicating vapor.

“Preferably some time in this decade,” I whisper, no longer able to get a full breath.

He smiles and whispers back, “‘Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet.’”

Then he lowers his lips and presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. Instant goosebumps are the result. My cells desperately hope that isn’t the only thing he has planned.

I suck air into my lungs as he moves his head to reach the nape of my neck. His stubbly cheek brushes against mine, causing nerve endings I didn’t even know I have to come alive. His mouth continues its journey at a leisurely pace, kissing my earlobe, my eyes, my jawline, my chin.

I can’t stop trembling. He lingers over my lips, hovering, his warm breath tantalizing, his nose nuzzling mine, until I crave him like a starving man craves food. The only thing I want, the only thing I can think of, is tasting him.

Suddenly, finally, powerfully, his mouth crashes into mine, and it is fireworks exploding inside a keg of gunpowder. I give a muffled whimper as heat tears through my body, radiating with every pulse of my blood.

I’m being scorched, but I don’t care. I only want more.

Fingers tangled in my hair, he draws me closer and angles his head. He tightens his hand around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, until I’m not sure where the seam of fusion is. He tastes like warm coffee, strong and powerful. I’m no longer earth-bound as he tugs on my mouth with his own, his lips teaching me what it is to be kissed until you feel it in your toes.

My hands find their way to his shoulders, his neck, his hair. I simply cannot get enough of him. He groans against my mouth as my fingers glide into his hair and drags his own hands over my body, creating an insatiable blazing path of fire everywhere they touch.

After a lifetime contained within a too-short moment, he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine again. Our breaths mingle, both panting for want of air. He drills into my soul with a look so intense I know he can see everything.

It makes me quake.

Finally, he lets go of me and steps back. It’s like stepping outside naked in a blizzard, biting and disorienting.

“That was more than a kiss,” I manage to squeak out between pants. My body still surges with electricity but without its grounding, it courses through my veins, back and forth, until I’m on the brink of explosion. I can feel the high flush on my cheeks as my heart pumps triple the amount of blood as usual.

“I wanted you to experience a real kiss,” he says, his voice crackling like he hasn’t used it in a decade. “I’ll bet your other fiancé never kissed you like that.”

Anger quickly replaces what I mistook for desire. He’s right, of course. Beck has never kissed me like that, because Beck is a gentleman. And no gentleman would ever take advantage of a lady the way Henry just did.

I slap him across the face.

“Ouch!” He rubs a hand across his cheek, which is already turning red. “Was that for starting … or for stopping?”

“You know exactly what that was for.”

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