Page 58 of Rise of the King

Now.

As I step through the door, I hear her. “Uh-uh, Sam. You can’t shower until tomorrow. Doctor’s orders, remember?” She turns her tight body away from me as the spray of the shower dances over the curves of her back.

“Amelia.” The word comes out sharper than I intended, but only a saint could resist the vision in front of me.

And I’m no saint, that’s for damn sure.

The water shuts off, and the door cracks open, letting out a billow of steam. “Could you hand me that towel, please?”

This temptress. “You’re playing with fire, Snow.”

She wraps the towel around herself, securing it just above her chest, and steps out of the shower. “Fire and ice, Sam. That’s a good analogy for us.” She grabs a second towel and starts drying her hair.

“How do you figure?” That’s about as much as she’s getting out of me right now. Pretty sure all my blood has rushed to my cock.

When she flips her long dark hair back over and pierces me with those eyes, I know I’m a goner. “Are you trying to say we’re opposites, Amelia?”

“No. Not exactly.” She walks into the bedroom and slips my old t-shirt over her head, giving me another brief glimpse of that skin I want to slide my tongue over. “We’re so similar, you and me. Most of the time, we’re ice. We don’t give. We don’t bend. We can be brutal. Unforgiving. We’re cold.” She drops the towel at her feet once the shirt is in place and spins back toward me. “Until we’re not. Until we’re hot. Until we’re raging with anger or fear or love. Until we’re so hot, we force the things around us to bend to our will. Until we consume them.” She sits down on the bed and pulls her knees up in front of her, watching me. “We each play off the other’s emotions. I think we always have.”

Standing in front of her, I wonder how I ever thought staying away was going to work. How could that ever be a good thing? Why was waiting my plan?

Reaching for her, I move her damp hair off her shoulders and cup her face in my hands.

Her lashes kiss her cheeks as her dark eyes close, and she hums out her approval. “Lie down with me, Sam.” Reaching over, she pulls the blanket back and tucks her feet underneath. “Come here and lie down with me, please.”

Not able to deny this woman anything, I strip down to my boxers and climb into bed, refusing to show any pain. If I don’t acknowledge it, it doesn’t exist.

After a minute of getting comfortable, I pull her toward me. “We still need to talk, Snow.”

She lightly traces the lines of my face, careful not to touch my stitches. “I know we do. But none of it seems important now.” Amelia rolls over and scoots back so we’re spooning.

I wrap an arm around her waist and close my eyes. “Some of it is. There are things you need to know.”

After yawning loudly, she wraps herself around the arm that’s anchoring her to me.

“After we sleep, Sam. You need to rest, and I’m too tired to think.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Sleep now. Talk later.”

* * *

When I crack my eyes open, I’m guessing it’s hours later, and a few things hit me all at once. There’s no more sun peeking through the blinds. Something about sleeping with Snow keeps the demons at bay. She may have slipped a shirt on, but she skipped panties. The feel of her warm naked skin resting against me is more than even a good man could resist. And I never was a good man.

I slip my fingers down her bare thigh and trail them up her creamy skin. She backs up the tiniest bit, seeking out my touch, and something primal inside of me roars to move faster.

To take.

To claim.

To never give back.

But this woman is worth so much more than that.

I trace my way along the small thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs.

Exploring. Playing. Teasing.

When her hips begin moving, I bury my face in the crook of her neck and slowly start to lick. To suck. To bite.

To make her want until she’s writhing beneath me.

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