Page 118 of Forged in Cursed Flames (Crown and Crest 2)

I grasp hold of his shoulders. “Your words and your lips are sending different signals.”

“Command me to go,” he whispers before he moves to my mouth. He doesn’t kiss me yet, but he’s so close.

“I don’t particularly want to,” I breathe, wondering if he can feel the way my heart beats wildly in my chest. “Maybe in five minutes?”

“That’s what we said five minutes ago.”

I run my hand through the thick hair at the back of his head, wrapping the strands between my fingers as I pull him in. “But this time, Imeanit.”

With a low groan, Henrik kisses me. His mouth slants over mine, urgent and hot. We’re playing with fire, carried away on too many tumultuous emotions.

I should care…but I don’t.

Surely five minutes of reckless abandon will be all right, even if Maisel’s voice is in my head, telling me not to be a trollop.

I tug at Henrik’s jacket, wanting to be closer. He sheds it without hesitation, and then his hands claim my hips, the heat of his fingers like fire through the thin layer of elven silk.

My palms explore his shoulders, his chest, his sides.

He angles his mouth over mine, demanding more, and I gladly obey. It’s a dance, and we instinctively know the steps. The commander’s ever-present shadow brushes against my skin, sending exhilarating tingles down my spine.

Somehow, I end up sitting on the edge of the bed, with Henrik kneeled on the floor before me. It’s easier to reach him, and I lean in, taking as much as he’s willing to give.

And then…we’ve reached the limit.

Henrik breaks the kiss, breathing hard, his fingers kneading my shoulders as he reins himself in.

“Five more minutes?” I ask hopefully, and he chokes out a laugh.

We end up face to face, reveling in the moment. Any other man would ask to stay the night.

But not Henrik.

Pulling back, he sits on his heels and looks at me as if he’s drinking me in. “That’s enough.”

A smile toys at my lips. “Enough for what?”

“To get me through tomorrow.”

My heart gives an extra thump, and I resist the urge to swoon while he’s watching me.

Slowly, he comes to his feet. He adjusts his tunic, shooting me an amused look that makes me bite back a girlish giggle.

Gathering his jacket from the floor, he walks to the door. Before he slips through, he says, “Sleep well, Clover.”

As soon as he closes the door behind him, I let out a lovesick sigh and flop back on the bed. I roll over, pulling a pillow to my face as I squeal with ridiculous glee.

Let the world fall apart—right now, nothing could dampen my happiness.

29

Henrik

“What doyou mean Clover is going?” I demand, feeling like taking the courier’s letter and tearing it to pieces.

Audra frowns as she rereads it. “We’ve all been invited to attend the celebratory feast. It says unless Clover isdead, she is expected to join us.” The elven woman’s anxious eyes move to mine. “It’s a royal decree.”

Beside us, Lawrence paces. I’m not sure he even slept last night. At this rate, the prince will wear a trail in the marble floor. He looks unstable at best.

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