Page 92 of Heir of Illusion

I step forward into his space, crowding him despite the danger. He tries to move back, but I follow him. Our chests are brushing, yet our skin doesn’t connect anywhere. His breathing is heavy as his gaze falls to my lips and shivers of anticipation dance through me.

Lifting a single finger, I drag it up the long sleeve of his shirt from wrist to shoulder, and his entire body shudders under my touch.

“Tell me again how indifferent you are,” I say softly, keeping my gaze locked with his.

The last of his restraint snaps.

Thorne grabs my arms with his gloved hands and pushes me back into the wall. His body traps mine, making it abundantly clear just how much he wants me. Less than an inch separates our faces, his warm breath coasting over my cheek as he speaks.

“Is it true what they say about kings making poor lovers?”

“You tell me,” I reply. “Had any complaints recently?”

“Oh, my sweet, poisonous Ivy,” he whispers. My breath catches as the tip of his leather-clad finger trails over my collarbone, stopping just above my heavy breasts. “A king merely rules, but a God dominates.”

Something tickles my arms, and I glance down to find his shadows wrapping around my wrists, lifting them up and pinning them to the wall above my head. I bite my lip as his entire hand rests right over my heart. Does he feel it racing? We hold each other’s stares, unable to look away.

“I can feel the heat of your skin through the leather,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Do you always burn hotter than the fires of Life and Death?”

His other hand trembles as it caresses my face and gently traces my lips.

“Tell me, Angel, if I keep touching you, will you ignite in my arms?”

I pull against my restraints, desperate to touch him too. “I’d burn you alive.”

“Perhaps?” His hand on my chest moves lower, cupping my breast and making me moan aloud. His eyes darken at the sound. Shadows swirl in his irises, eating up any trace of blue and silver. “But I am a creature of fire, remember? I can take a little heat.”

“Can you?” A smile pulls at my lips as I hook my leg behind his back and roll my hips against him.

He groans through clenched teeth. “Fuck, Ivy.”

His hands fall to my waist, and my other leg wraps around him too. Thorne pushes me harder into the wall as we move against each other. I gasp as his hands slip under the slits of my gown to cup my ass, his fingers kneading the flesh there. My eyes are locked on his as something tightens deliciously in my core. He’s not even truly touching me, and already I’m about to explode.

“Ivy,” he whispers my name over and over.

I gasp. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Tell me again that I’m nothing to you,” I demand, my voice breathless. I’m so close now.

“You’re—” A loud knock cuts him off.

Thorne’s head swings to the door, his teeth bared in a snarl as his hips still trap mine. A low warning growl rises in his throat.

“Quiet,” I order, slapping his shoulder. He turns his dark gaze on me, eyes narrowed into slits as he shakes his head.

The knock comes again.

“Lady Iverson?” Huxley’s voice calls from the hallway.

I’m truly fond of the shy guard, but in this moment, I could kill him.

“My lady? Are you awake?”

I scream internally, knowing from experience that he won’t go away if I ignore him. “Yes?”

“My lady, are you alright?” Huxley asks. “You sound out of breath?”

---