Page 78 of The Princess and Her Grand King

Control your reactions, or you will break this fragile moment.Curling his hand into fists, he resisted the urge to let them wander.

Since his return, he had longed to do this. To hold her, just like this.

Maybe he had imagined it happening horizontally. On a bed. On the floor. Her naked body writhing under him while he spread those pretty little thighs apart, burying his dick deep inside—

Unsafe zone. Retreat.

Don't think about those sexy legs wrapped around your waist. Her broken cries in the air while you—

Emeriel drew back.

Reluctantly, Daemonikai let his arms fall away. "Thank you, sweetheart. I needed that."

For a second, he saw something unguarded in her eyes. A naked longing that mirrored his own.

But she blinked, and the walls went back up.

"What work do you need assistance with, Your Grace?" she asked, politely.

Daemonikai gestured to the empty chair opposite him, using his other hand to adjust his erection.

She settled into it, their knees brushing beneath the desk. They worked in companionable silence, interrupted only by the sound of quills scratching against parchment.

He noticed her watching him occasionally, but whenever he met her stare, she quickly looked away.

So he stopped intercepting, letting her eyes linger on him as they pleased. He enjoyed it too much.

Time drifted by, the hours blending seamlessly together. At some point, his arousal subsided, much to his relief. Now he felt at ease. Calm. Content.

Emeriel was thorough in her work, much to his surprise. Each scroll she completed was neatly organized and eloquently written. He was impressed. Was there anything she couldn’t do?

To think this lady before him, writing gracefully, was the same male slave who had served his meal all those years ago, stooped over and skittish. Completely unbelievable.

And he could still feel her gaze on him from time to time.

Was this the right time to bring up the past? To bring up this rift between them?

That day in the woods, she had been adamant about not wanting to hear his apologies or explanations. With his first attempt a disaster, Daemonikai hadn't figured out how to broach the subject again.

But he enjoyed the calm between them now. Selfish though it might be, he didn’t want this tranquility to end.

No, he would wait. His chance would come. Another time.

***

Emeriel needed a slap. Or maybe ten. Anything at all to stop her fromeye-fuckingKing Daemonikai across the desk.

Your Beloved,that ever-present voice of her annoying little self, reared up again.

No, not my Beloved. The grand king of Urai.

The voice snorted, mocking her shamelessly.

He worked with complete focus, his gaze flitting across the ledgers, occasionally pausing to make calculations.

His brows furrowed when something didn’t add up, only to smooth out once he resolved it.

The way his quill moved across the paper was almost… seductive. Or maybe that was just her.

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