Page 71 of The Exile's Curse

Like a prayer and a curse all in one. Like he might die if she didn't grant him what he wanted. Her body wanted back, and she lifted her hips and found him and slid back down, letting him fill her as she stared down at him.

The noise he made was hungry, and his fingers twitched again. If his voice could make her forget herself, make her want him so badly, what might his hands do if she set him free? Let him take off her dress and his clothes. Let him touch her all over. Let him kiss her again.

But no. That way was madness. She wanted sex. Wanted pleasure. For some insane reason, she wanted it with him, but it had to be only that and nothing more. So. He wanted her to see him. She would give him that while she took what she wanted.

A roll of her hips to lift her up and slide her back down. Another noise from his throat and then her name breathed like an invocation.

She moved again and again, watching him all the way, falling down into the depths of that wild green gaze. There was nothing else. His eyes and the feel of him inside her and the frantic need that drove her faster and harder against him, the pleasure true and deep and overwhelming. Sweeping her away. Sweeping the past that lay between them away. Sweeping all before it, to let her be free.

Lucien moved with her, raced with her toward oblivion. Until both of them reached the edge, and she broke over him with his name on her lips and he came with a shout.

When she came back to herself, she was slumped on his chest, sweaty and satisfied, a pleasant ache that started to turn to hunger again as she lifted her head.

Lucien was watching her again. And she liked the look on his face.

"Had enough?" he asked, one brow arching at her.

She could lie. Send him away. Or she could tell the truth. That she wanted him again.

"No," she breathed and reached to untie his hands.

When she woke, glowing stars danced around the room above her. She blinked, entirely uncertain where she was or what was happening, until she registered the weight of another on the mattress behind her.

Lucien.

Goddess. The things they had done.

Her face went hot at the memories. Worse, her body sparked back to life, hungry for more.

"I know you're awake," he said.

She resisted the urge to pull the covers over her head and hide. She had slept with Lucien. Though, to be honest, until they'd both collapsed, panting and exhausted, there'd been little sleep involved.

Willing herself to be calm, she rolled to face him. He was sitting up, propped against several pillows. His cravat still dangled from the bed frame, and she pretended the sight didn't make her hungrier still for him. He held one hand out, palm up, and the stars streamed upward from it, filling the room with the night sky as they danced.

"What are you doing?"

"It's an illusion," he said. "I'm not just a Truth Seeker, after all."

"I know that." She waved a hand at the stars. They were heartstoppingly beautiful. Almost as heartstoppingly beautiful as the sight of him naked and draped in her rumpled sheets.

"I do this when I'm happy. I don't get much chance to just play with illusions these days."

He was happy?

Why? He had to know what was coming next. She would send him back to his own bed and try to forget this had ever happened. But she couldn't quite open her mouth to send him away just yet. Not when he made stars dance for her.

He'd made stars dance for her in other ways, too. He'd taken her at her word when she'd said she hadn't had enough. Had freed his hands with a quick tug, then scooped her up and carried her over to the fireplace. He'd had her there on the rug, and bent over the table, and back in the bed before he was done. And she'd loved it. Had demanded more each step of the way. She was honest enough to admit that. He had known exactly how to light her body on fire.

Which seemed unreasonably unfair.

Goddess. Why him?

"You need to go," she managed, clinging to sanity and the last shreds of dignity. "It will be light soon. No one can see you leaving my room."

He shrugged, and the lights died. Their loss made her heart clench.

"This doesn't change anything," she said as he climbed out of bed and found his clothes.

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