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I find that I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long while.

I stare at him for several seconds, and I stroke his cheek again. “Stay.”

His jaw clenches beneath my touch, and the heat in his eyes grows.

He leans back in and kisses me again, only this one is full of carnal promise. “As you command,est amage,” he whispers.

Memnon grinds his hips against my pelvis, and I gasp into his mouth, the sound eliciting a grin from him.

His hands move to my body then, stroking up and down my sides. Eventually, they find the hem of my shirt. He fingers it, the action reminding me of when we first laid eyes on each other in his tomb. He played with my clothes then too. Only, we never had a chance to take it any further.

Memnon tugs the shirt up, unpeeling it from my body inch by inch.

“So beautiful,” he says as he takes in my exposed flesh, the look in his eyes searing. He saw my skin not even twenty-four hours ago, but concern shadowed his gaze then. Right now, he has no such restraint.

I’m still wearing a bra, and his fingers glide over one of the straps. A lock of dark hair slips over his eye as he studies the undergarment, grazing his thumb over the lace cup. I realize then that the sorcerer may have neverseena bra before. I don’t know what they wore during Memnon’s time, but it probably wasn’t this.

I sit up, forcing the sorcerer back to his knees. Then I take his hand. “You undo it from the back.” I guide his arm behind me to where my bra hooks together.

Memnon watches my face the entire time, more fascinated with my features than he is with the workings of my lingerie. Still, his hand closes on the clasp.

“This feels like something I wouldgreatlyenjoy breaking, Selene,” he admits.

Despite his words, his other hand comes up, and after a few probing touches, he deftly unhooks the bra. He slides the thing off and casts it aside.

“These breasts…” He bends and takes one into his mouth.

I gasp at the intense and unexpected contact, my fingers delving into his hair. Memnon sucks on my nipple, the sensation going right to my core. I gasp again, my grip on his hair tightening as the rest of me goes boneless.

Memnon cradles my back, holding me in place. “Sweet woman, you feel better than memory serves.” His lips move away from my nipple, trailing kisses along my skin until he gets to the other breast, which he then promptly takes into his mouth.

“Goddess,” I breathe, holding him like I’ll fall if I let go.

He rolls my nipple between his teeth before releasing it. “Don’t praise your goddess—praiseme, your king,” he says, his breath fanning against my skin.

“You want me to call youmy king?” I mean, I reallycouldget into this role-playing.

“Yes,” he breathes.

Using the fingers threaded through his hair, I turn his head and lean in to his ear. “Would you like me to say it in English or Sarmatian,est xsaya?”My king.

A shudder works its way through his body.

He shakes his head and flashes me an intense look. “You don’t know what that does to me, hearing you say those words in our language.” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on my skin.

And then his mouth is back on my flesh, and he’s kissing down, down, down my torso.

I grab the back of his shirt, tugging it up. Memnon, after all, is not the only one who wants a glimpse of bare flesh.

The sorcerer pauses. “Does my queen want me to remove my shirt?” he asks in Sarmatian.

Before I even have a chance to answer, he pulls the garment off, then tosses it aside.

I get a sick little thrill at the thought of his clothes casually littering my room. I find I want them to decorate my space just as much as my Post-it notes do.

The sight of his exposed torso has me drawing in a sharp breath. I already knew his body is a work of art, but seeing it up close is an entire experience.

I reach out and run my hands over his thick coiled muscles. Beneath my touch, Memnon’s skin pebbles. I can feel those smoky-brown eyes of his watching me as I explore him.