Page 36 of Spearcrest Prince

I’m not hard yet, but I’m in that kind of mood where I want to be. The kind of mood when I might normally indulge in a slow wank, without urgency.

But Anaïs’s presence, instead of dousing this slow, growing heat inside me, is doing quite the opposite. Her long bare legs, her pretty, unimpressed eyes, the hard points of her nipples underneath her ungainly T-shirt… They’re like dry grass, stocking the smouldering heat of my desire into full-blown flames.

She isn’t even my type. She never will be. I don’t think about her like that, and being engaged to her makes me repulsed by her on principle alone.

Clearly, not repulsed enough.

“So why come here?” is her cool, collected reply.

“You know why.”

“I guarantee you I don’t.”

“Because of you. Because I want—” I try to think of a way to explain exactly what I want. “I want you.”

She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she tilts her head, fixing me with a thoughtful gaze. A thoughtful, searching gaze.

“You’re being flippant,” she says slowly. “You’re being flippant, or… or this is part of that thing you do where you want us to fight. Or this is one of yourwinners and losersthings. But you’re definitely not here because you wantme.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know what you don’t want. So do you—you’re just too drunk to remember.”

“What about you, trésor? What do you want?”

I reach for her arm. She doesn’t move away but glances down at my hands with narrowed eyes. Before she can even move, I grab her, dragging her to me and pinning her under me on the bed.

My breath is quick, and my heart is suddenly hammering. Anaïs doesn’t seem fazed. Or angry or concerned or… anything. She looks up at me, perfectly calm, distant as always—distant as a celestial being tasked with observing humankind without interfering.

“I don’t want anything,” she answers. “Just to be left in peace to sleep.”

“We could spend the time doing something much nicer than sleeping.” Gently cradling her head in one hand, I brush the pad of my thumb from her chin to her jaw. Her throat shudders as she swallows, but her face remains a calm mask. I have no clue what she’s feeling, but she’s not pulling away. That’s something. “Can I kiss you?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

My voice is a hoarse whisper. The smell of her, the warmth of her, envelops me in a cocoon. A cocoon that makes the real world feel very far away, as if our engagement is a universe away. As if this moment exists outside of time and space—in whatever dimension Anaïs exists in.

“Because,” she says, “you’re trying to make a mistake, and I’m trying to stop you.”

I lower my lips to hers, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath. “This isn’t a mistake.”

She moistens her lips with the tip of her tongue. Is that a nervous gesture or an enticing one? I can’t tell with her. Her face gives nothing away. Even her eyes—those pretty doe eyes—give me nothing.

“You don’t want to be engaged to me,” she says finally. There is no self-pity in her tone, no resentment. She speaks with that dreamy neutrality of hers, like it’s impossible to faze her. “You don’t want me in Spearcrest. You don’t even like me.”

Her eyes drop to my lips, and then she looks back up quickly.

“Give me one good reason to let you kiss me,” she adds. “And I will.”

“Because…”

I stop, staring down at her. My hips are pressed between her legs, and I’m definitely a little hard. But even with her body underneath mine, the evidence of my desire undeniable against her—even now, she manages to keep her cool, to keep me at arm’s length. How is that possible?

“Because I want to,” I say finally. “I don’t need another reason. I want to kiss you, to put my fingers on your tongue and make you suck. I want to lick your nipples until you make those sounds you made that night at the club. I want to make you so wet you’re dripping. I want to taste that wetness and pleasure you with my tongue and make you feel so good you come undone.”

Her eyes are wide. She blinks slowly. Under my chest, hers rises and falls a little quicker than it did before.

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