Page 115 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
“But you don’t. That’s okay.” I tuck my chin down to hide my face. So he doesn’t see me crumble.
“No, it’s not.” He leans in again, but I press one finger to his mouth.
“You said one kiss.”
“I feel…greedy when I’m with you,” he chucks out, the words rough and quiet, brimming with actual pain.
If I had any doubt this wasmyAidan, this sentence disperses the very last one of them.
I sink my nails in his hairline, and he hums in approval, devouring me. His mistrust acts as gasoline on the flames, spicing up the first intimate moment we’ve shared in a century with a pinch of desperation, and a sprinkle of violence.
Any false hope that I might have blown our chemistry out of proportions during our time apart is absolutely dead, my heart hammering in my chest.
A loud knock on the door coaxes a snarl out of him, and he finally breaks the kiss.
“Your Highness, we need to know you’re alright.”
Aidan’s arms shake, his fist curling and uncurling before he tears himself away. “I told you tojust wait.” He strides over to ease the door open. “You’re all dismissed.”
“Sir?”
“Leave us. I won’t ask again,” he barks before closing it again and clicking the lock.
Aidan walks down the length of the room and back, his features draped in shadows. “Was it always like this?”
“Always.” I hide my hands behind my back, the sweet leftover sting of his kisses on my lips throbbing under his scrutiny.
I smother a heated moan as he shrugs off his waistcoat. He throws it over the foot of the bed and unbuttons his cufflinks, looking ready topounce.
“Maybe we should—” I start, but he storms back over to me and swallows the rest of my sentence with a bruising kiss.
Aidan pins me to the wall with his knee, one hand exploring the thigh-high slit of my silk dress until he reaches the lace of my underwear, his fingertips digging into the flesh of my hip. I pull the shirt off his back, peeling one sleeve off at a time. The muscles in his shoulders are broader and more defined than they were, and I rake my nails over the grooves and ridges.
His nostrils flare. “Fuck. I want you.”
His touch grows intently precise, as if he found his oldHow to Drive Beth Crazyplaybook. He brushes the curve of my buttocks to the tender skin of my inner thigh back and forth, and I wrap one leg around his midriff, my center rubbing against the enticing shape of his erection.
His head falls forward. “I want you more than I ever thought possible, which isn’t a good sign considering the accusations made against you,” he chucks out, his voice unsteady. “But my body remembers you, even though I can’t, and it’s irresistible.”
His big hand stretches the lace of my underwear as it travels back to my front, creeping dangerously close to my pulsing heat.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“Maybe. But I kind of want to see you come, first.”
My breasts strain against the low neckline of my dress. “Don’t play with me. Please.”
“Too bad, because that’s exactly what I mean to do, Miss Elizabeth.” He slips the silk down below my hard, painful nipples, and licks his lips at the sight. “Tell me about us. Where did we meet?”
“In the labyrinth.”
He dips his head down to taste each breast, sucking them into his mouth and teasing the peaks until I’m panting.
“And where did I taste you for the first time?”
He means more than just a kiss and slides down to his knees, turning my brain to mush.
I grip his shoulders. “Wait. Are you still going through with the wedding?”
