Page 141 of House of Lilith

Dahrian and Aisling, I start repeating to myself, the name Aisling so grating to me, it makes me grit my fucking teeth.

Serves me right, I curse at myself. I wanted to make him less of a mystery and ended up knowing a lot more than Ireallywanted to know.

And now I’ll have fucking Aisling running marathons in my head for days.

Then the clock strikes fifteen to midnight, I realize I’ll soon have to start making my way to F12, and my restlessness…

It births an idea that makes me wonder if I’m going crazy.

But the urge is too strong. It overwhelms me and I immediately whip out my phone and pull up the chat with Dahrian.

“F12 at midnight,” my last message reads.

I find myself having to beat around the bush. “You there already?” I type.

There’s a moment of staring at the screen before the three dots appear. “On my way.”

I wince, but I do it. “Mind meeting me someplace else?”

“Wherever you want.”

“My room?” I type and I force myself to press Send. “Room 53, 5th floor.”

It makes me frown, when the reply doesn’t come straight away. And it makes me fear I’ve overstepped.

But after one excruciatingly long moment,thismessage appears, “Yeah. Be there in ten.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and I look at the clock again, wondering what the fuck I’m doing and trying to make myself see that this, among other things, would also mean breaking the rules.

But instead of coming to my senses and aborting the mission altogether, I find myself getting out of my chair and marching up to my room, all at once feverish and focused.

*

By the time I hear the soft little knock, I’ve already smelled him. And it was fine while he was still gone, when I didn’t even know when he’d be coming back, but now that we’re about to be alone again, the seconds between now and my legs on his shoulders seem like a fucking eternity.

I get off the bed, my eyes darting to my bare feet. I drag them up my boxers and my T-shirt, all of a sudden finding myself scrambling to decide whether I should change into something else after all.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I decide to stop with the nonsense, I pad to the door and I slowly open it. And there he is, waiting to be let in with his lips curled into a smile and his hands in his pockets, but I first throw a glance over his shoulder, to make sure the Common Room really is empty.

It is.

But when I let my eyes land back onhim, I find him peering over my head and into my room with one eyebrow raised and tremendous focus on his face.

I frown. Then I grab him by the collar of his shirt and I pull him inside, making him snap out of it and let out a stifled little laugh.

“Never been in a Duchess’s room before,” he says, in a low, playful voice, as I close the door behind him.

But when I turn back to him, he’s once again not even looking at me. His hands in his pockets, he’s scanning the room, slowly strolling past the commode with the pictures and the knick-knacks.

It makes heat wash over me when I drag my eyes up and down his body, watching the muscles in his arm flex as he reaches to take one of the knick-knacks in his hand.

But at the same time, it makes me so pissed, to be this fucking eager while he’s there taking his sweet time with the fucking medal I got in third grade.

I walk over to him, slapping his hand away and making him finally turn to look at me, his eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Didn’t invite you to snoop around,” I protest.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. Then, sliding his hands back into his pockets, he takes a step closer, his head tilting and his lips curling into a sexy, self-satisfied little smile. “Impatient, are we?”

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