Page 123 of Pervade London
“That you had to live with that.”
His expression changed, becoming somber. “If you knew innocent lives had been saved because of it you would not judge me so harshly.”
“Enough lives to make it worthwhile?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Did you like doing it?”
His brow furrowed, but it was in response to my robe falling open, revealing my breasts…and my sex. I let it stay like that to distract him.
I studied his face. “I don’t judge you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said, as his jeans brushed my bare thighs, sending a jolt of arousal through me.
“You want to ruin my life.” I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his.
He stepped back, biting his lip seductively. “Want to see something special?”
I tried to keep my mind on the ancient artifact in my hand.
His gaze fell to my lips. “I’ll get it.” He lifted the arrowhead out of my palm with care.
After he stepped away, I drew in a sharp breath, trying to erase the effect he was having on me. But there was no denying that my clit was still throbbing from the way he’d brushed up against me in a devilish tease.
He pressed a button and the arrowhead was returned to its drawer. From the same cabinet he withdrew a gold crown inlaid with emeralds and rubies.
I reached out to take it from him. He pulled it out of reach.
I rested my hands in my lap. “Sorry, it’s just so pretty.”
“It was destined for Queen Anne Boleyn.”
“It’s so beautiful.”
Mystical even, the way the fluorescent light bounced off the jewels, transmuting them into shards of colorful light. My thoughts raced over what I knew about Henry the Eighth’s second wife, who had fallen victim to his passion for beheading his women.
My thighs widened again to give James the room he needed to get closer and he confidently stepped between them. I exhaled sharply as I felt the pressure of his erection through his jeans. It gently rubbed against my clit, causing my lips to quiver at being kept in a climactic holding pattern.
“Dazzling,” he whispered.
We both looked down at the crown he was holding.
“Anne and I belong to the same club,” he said matter-of-factly, “both of us were destined for the throne.”
“She was beheaded.” My voice sounded breathy.
“I fared better.”
“Does it make you sad you aren’t king?”
He looked amused. “I fulfill my role in other ways.”
“How?”
“I ensure Britain remains a sovereign state.”
“It’s not the same as being king?”
