Page 89 of Princess of Thieves

“Well, since you said please.”

He looks into my eyes, searching, and then slowly, slowly, presses into me.

It’s almost too much. I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath, and rock against him, pulling him deeper, wanting every inch. My lids flutter open to see him above me, hair across his forehead, his muscles taut with every movement.

He pushes all the way inside, and I gasp again, my hands clutching his shoulders.

“You feel amazing,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “So fucking amazing.”

He quickens his pace, and I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him deeper. “Fuck,” he groans.

It’s too much, hearing him talk in that ragged, raspy voice, seeing his fingers digging into the pillow at my head, feeling the heat of his breath and his body.

I don’t want to hold back, can’t hold back even if I fucking wanted to. With a pulsing shudder, I come, and feel a gush of liquid heat as Rob joins me.

Panting, he collapses, just to my side, and brushes a loose strand of hair from my forehead. Suddenly self-conscious, I purse my lips and try to make a joke.

“Was it good for you?”

He laughs. “Good? Keep that up and you’re gonna be the death of me, pretty lady. And it’ll be worth it.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The house is still, the night wrapped in the kind of deep quiet that makes you forget the outside world exists. I’m half-asleep, wrapped back into my T-shirt and curled into Rob’s side, feeling his slow, steady breaths. Everything feels peaceful for the first time in so long.

Then—BANG.

The noise rips through the silence like an atom bomb, jolting me upright in bed. My heart leaps into my throat as I look around wildly, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Rob is already moving, springing out of bed like he’s been waiting for this. He yanks on his jeans and wheels on me.

“Stay here,” he orders, his voice low but firm.

I should. I know I should. But I don’t. I scramble out of bed, ignoring the shaking in my limbs, and follow him. By the time I reach the hallway, Rob is already halfway down the stairs. I cross the second-floor landing in a rush and nearly run straight into Tuck and Will.

Tuck’s in sweats and a faded T-shirt, rubbing his eyes like he’s just woken up. Will, on the other hand, is bare-chested, in nothing but silk pajama pants, his expression sharp and alert.

“What the hell’s going on?” Tuck demands, his voice a mix of confusion and irritation.

“I don’t know,” I stammer, my heart racing faster now. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can feel the dread sinking in deep. Something’s wrong.

Together, the three of us hurry down the stairs after Rob. The house feels too quiet, the walls too close, and when we reach the front hall, I freeze. The glow from outside is unmistakable—theflashing red and blue lights cutting through the darkness, the shadows of figures moving beyond the door.

Sheriff’s vehicles. Dozens of them, lining up in front of the , deputies with guns drawn.

It’s a siege.

And standing in front of them all is Guy Gisbourne.

“Robin Locksley,” Guy says, his voice clear and cold as he lifts a piece of paper high in the air. “I have a warrant for your arrest.”

A deputy steps forward and grabs Rob, snapping handcuffs around his wrists with a cold, metallic click. My breath catches, and the world seems to tilt around me as Guy Gisbourne begins to read the charges, his voice dripping with authority.

“Robin Locksley, you are under arrest for kidnapping, conspiracy to defraud the county of Sherwood, racketeering, grand theft—”

“No!” The word tears from my throat before I can stop it. I lunge forward, desperate to do something, anything, but Rob’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos.

“Maren,stay back.”

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