Page 71 of Brazen King

She’s breathtaking in the early-morning light, her ivory skin practically glowing, it’s so soft and smooth and impressively unblemished. Her cheeks have the most dainty flush thataccentuates the natural red of her lips—slightly swollen after last night’s excitement. Her thick burgundy hair falls loosely around her face, cascading over my shoulder and tickling my neck.

She’s strikingly beautiful.

And she looks so trusting, almost vulnerable, in her sleep. I could easily mistake her for a delicate young flower—someone breakable even—if I didn’t know better.

But I’ve seen the tigress that thrives within her soul.

And that’s what intoxicates me—it keeps me coming back for more.

We didn’t succumb to sleep until nearly sunrise, so it’s more than reasonable that she would need the rest. Especially after the number of times we had sex—and how vigorously. She must be exhausted.

Still, I’m pleasantly surprised to find her in my bed.

A possessive sense of victory expands in my chest. Because this is the first time Natasha hasn’t tried to slip away before sunrise. She stayed with me well past the time our deal stipulates. And she did it without me even asking—or demanding.

Consumed by the urge to kiss her, I press my lips to the crown of her head, then slowly work my way down to her temple, her cheek, her nose, her lips. I keep kissing her, soaking up her heavenly scent as I savor the feel of her satin skin against my mouth.

My cock, already hard and eager for her, twitches when Natasha releases a soft moan.

And her brows furrow as she stirs in her sleep, her eyes still closed.

Smiling wickedly, I dip to press my lips against the hollow of her throat. And I keep making my way down her luxuriously naked body, savoring the way she squirms beneath my caress.

As I reach her creamy breasts, capturing one nipple between my teeth, she gasps. And her chest rises, her sexy tits pressing against my mouth.

“Wha…?” she breathes sleepily. Then her eyes snap open, and she jolts upright, as if suddenly realizing it’s daylight outside. “Oh my God, what time is it?” she demands, scrambling to pull the sheets up around her exposed body.

I chuckle, watching with appreciation as color creeps up her neck and into her high cheekbones.

“Nearly eight,” I say as she continues her frantic scan of the room.

“Oh my God, oh my God!”

In a panic, she scrambles out of bed, and I can’t help but laugh as I watch her go.

“Where’s the fire?” I ask, settling back against the headboard.

Her sleep-muddled thoughts appear to grow more lucid as she looks around for her clothes and comes up short. “I shouldn’t have stayed out all night. If anyone sees me…”

“What’s the big deal?” I ask. “No one will see you. I can sneak you home later. Just come back to bed.”

“I can’t, Killian.” She sounds exasperated. “If anyone finds out, it could lead to terrible consequences,” she insists, leveling me with a steely gray gaze. “Not the least of which is the fact that my cover could be blown.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “What could be worse than that?”

“Well, for starters, if my father finds out about the deal I made with you, it could—and likely would—trigger a war. He certainly wouldn’t let you live.” Seeming frustrated by her prolonged inability to find her clothing, Natasha stalks from the bedroom to raid my closet.

“Aw, that almost sounds like youcarethat I stay alive,” I tease.

Natasha snorts. “Hardly,” she says, her voice carrying from beyond the doorway. But her indifference sounds flimsy. She’s struggling to keep her feelings for me on lockdown. And as reluctant as she is to admit it, she doesn’t want to see me die.

Which draws my lips into a smug smile. “Besides, isn’t your father already trying to kill me? I thought that’s why you came in the first place.”

Leaning back out of the closet, Natasha gives me a withering glare. Then she disappears again to snatch one of my dress shirts from its hanger. The sky-blue shirt she steps back out in makes her look like a goddess. The soft fabric has a subtle metallic sheen, and while it was already a favorite shirt of mine, seeing it on Natasha makes me appreciate the button-down in a whole new light.

The sight of her in my clothes fills my mind with indecent thoughts, followed by an unreasonable level of satisfaction. Because, not only does she look insanely sexy in my shirt, it somehow intensifies my claim on her.

The hem is long enough that it could practically be a dress on her, reaching halfway down her thigh. And she deftly buttons it to the space between her breasts before rolling the sleeves to her elbows. Then she pauses when she sees me watching her. “What?”

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