Page 91 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

My skin got hotter, and I opened my eyes to peer through the open bathing room door. I let out a breathy moan. “Oh.”

Ambrose faced the wall, not looking at me, but still I could see all too much. My traitorous gaze lingered a moment too long on the planes of his sculpted chest, his body, the water pouring over him…

I whimpered and arched off the bed, sinking two fingers into my core.”

36

AMBROSE

UNDERNEATH

Istood beneath the steady stream of water, reveling in the feeling of warmth flowing over my head.

I hated this castle and everything in it. I hated the feeling of stumbling in the dark, completely blind to everything around me, and I hated having to play nice with my former commander, Gancanagh.

But, if there was one thing I didn’t mind about underneath, it was their hot water.

Rebel camps and sea travel didn’t often provide opportunities to be truly clean, and I had to admit that I took advantage of the showers every time I visited Underneath.

Reluctantly, I switched off the faucet and stepped out. Droplets of water flew across the bathing room as I stepped out of the shower and shook out my wet hair. I grabbed a large towel from the pile on a nearby shelf, and wrapped it loosely around my waist.

I’d been in the bathing room for the better part of twenty minutes, so when I strode back into the bedroom I was unsurprised to find Lonnie sprawled on the bed, her fiery mane, rebellious and untamed, fanned around her head like a halo. She’d changed out of her gown, and had taken the liberty of wearing one of my shirts like a nightgown.

For a heartbeat, or perhaps an eternity, I stood rooted to the spot, ensnared by the sight.Fuck.

Her eyes were closed, and so for a moment I let my gaze linger over the curve of her neck, the freckles that dusted her shoulders like a constellation charting my downfall. The scent of honey and something wilder, unmistakably Lonnie, permeated the cool air, stirring a hunger within me.

The image of Lonnie standing in the grand hall flashed before my eyes—her arm outstretched, her hand unflinching as she dropped the bloody head onto the polished surface of the king’s table.

It was brutal, violent, and the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

Shaking from my revery, I strode across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath my weight.

Lonnie didn’t move, but here, the air was even thicker with a fragrance that sent my senses into disarray.

My nostrils flared. Oh.Oh, fuck.

The scent of Lonnie’s arousal wrapped around me, and the sudden realization of what she’d been doing while I stood feet away hit me like a bolt of lightning. I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. How the fuck could I be expected to resist that?

“Did you come yet, love?”

She let out a soft gasp and stiffened, betraying what I suspected the moment I scented the air. She was not asleep. No, she was far, far from it. The entire time I’d been just one room over, she’d been in here, petting her pretty cunt to make herself come.

She opened one eye to look at me, and I leaned toward her as if pulled by invisible strings. A pretty flush crossed her cheeks, and it was like a flag waving me toward her. A beacon coming alight, telling me to take her. Taste her. Give in to what I’d wanted for years, long before I’d ever met her in person.

“No,” she whispered.

For a moment, I faltered. No? Fuck, I thought she wanted this too.

Then, I remembered the question I’d asked her, and a smile curved my lips. I looked directly into her honey-brown gaze, asking again just to be sure. “You haven’t come yet?”

“No,” she breathed, softer this time. “Not yet.”

“That’s a shame,” I found myself replying, my words running away from me, tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You should.”

Her breath hitched, a sharp intake that cut through the thick silence of the chamber. “Excuse me?”

“Continue,” I found myself saying, the command resonant in my tone. “Make yourself come, love. I want to see you touch your pretty little cunt for me.”

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