Page 123 of Falling Princess
“I can’t believe I came all over the Princess of Auralia.” He groaned.
“Why? I liked it.”
I was confused why he’s regretful. I certainly wasn’t. Curious, I dipped a fingertip in the mess on my stomach and brought it to my mouth. A bit of salt, an intriguing hint of musk.
“I didn’t think there would be so much of it.”
Lorcan laughed silently, helplessly, kissing my cheek, my neck, my temple. “I should’ve known you’d immediately conduct experiments.”
“Am I doing this wrong? You know I’ve never been with anyone. You have to tell me if I’m not doing it right.”
“Shh.” He rocks onto his elbows, not laying on me, but over me. “I’ve never done this either.”
“You haven’t?” I was thoroughly shocked. “I assumed… I mean, you’ve experienced so much, I thought—”
“No. When would I have had the time?” He exhales and leans his forehead against mine. “I was twelve when I left home. Sixteen when I completed my training with Cata. I guess I could have done it before I competed in the trials that took me to the Olympics with you. I wasn’t exactly out meeting women, though. I was spying for the crown.” He hesitates, his irises thin rings of azure, exhaling. “Since then, I’ve been your knight.”
His grip on my hair tightened. Not pulling, but holding fast.
“Do you know how badly I’ve wanted you, even when you hated me? For how long?” His eyes screwed shut as though in pain. “How much I’ve loathed myself for it?”
A thrill of fear and triumph rocketed through me. I cupped his cheek with one trembling hand, my fingers splayed around his ear.
“I never hated you,” I breathed against his lips, the last words either of us spoke before the kiss. It’s teeth and tongues and as close to fucking with your mouths as you can get, or so I presumed, being utterly inexperienced. I felt drunk with skin contact.
“I can’t imagine why you would hate yourself for it,” I added, when the kiss broke.
“Because I let myself be distracted from what I needed to do.” He kissed me again, softly, this time. I traced the shape of his back.
“You asked me if the killing bothers me. Of course, it does. I did it because it was necessary to get close to you. I don’t want to do it any more often than required to keep you safe. But sometimes…” Lorcan’s blue eyes bored into mine. Too intense to look away. “I fear that all I am is an assassin. That I’ve lost all capacity to be anything more.”
“You haven’t,” I rushed to assure him. “I saw you in the Louvre; I’ve seen your sketches. What you’ve had to be is not the sum of who you are, Lorcan.”
What I’ve had to be isn’t the sum total of who I am, either. We both have so much more to become.
His face screwed into an expression very much like pain. He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, “I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you. That’s why we have to stop.”
“Oh, no, Knight. You don’t come on my stomach and then leave me hanging.”
“Fair enough,” he chuckled. Now that we’ve tacitly agreed not to go all the way he appears to be more comfortable with making out. Or, it could have been the orgasm I gave him.
Breaking his control might be my finest achievement.
He grabbed one of the discarded shirts—his—and cleaned the mess from my stomach. To my disappointment, he also buttoned himself away. When he was done, I pushed him onto his back and laid on top of him. Skin on skin from the waist up. It feels unimaginably good. I wonder what it would be like to be able to touch like this all the time. To not feel so alone.
But when I think of the future, a few months from now, all I can imagine is being touched like this by someone I don’t want, and feeling lonelier than ever.
Which is why I refuse to think about anything but what is happening now, in this moment.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
Lorcan traced small, hot circles against my hip. Slowly, as if he’s waiting for me to tell him to stop, he moved down the curve of my rear, following the line of my underwear.
Yes. Please. More.
I sighed into the crook of his neck. His touch became a firm, sure clasp of my buttock. I tilted my hips to press into it, and then he was using both hands, over my underwear, as we panted into one another’s necks.
“Yes,” I whispered.
