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“What else could there be, Prince Aurelius?”

A look flashes across his face as his grip loosens, and the way he dodges my kiss with a smirk lets me know that I hit my mark.

And I despise myself for it. This was what I wanted, to keep him from getting too close. It’s all a game, all supposed to be fun. So why do I feel so shitty about it?

He growls, standing up quickly and setting me on the ground. I look up at him questioningly, but he’s looking toward the door.

“Perfect timing,” he bites out, as I hear Beans’ booming laughter in the halls. “This situation cannot be hidden.”

I look down and see the very obvious outline of his cock straining against his pants and resist the urge to touch it. I turn, making a beeline to sit at the table before they arrive, assuming he’s behind me.

But Riley is reclined casually on the bed, the corner of our blanket bunched across his lap. It looks effortless, like he’s relaxing, and not hiding a raging erection.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Beans and Bitty burst through the door, both beaming and dripping wet. They found the garden unguarded because it’s a shared garden. The area where the royals sit is indeed guarded, but the garden, as a whole, is not.

But the best part is that they were able to follow the young Prince Eryn Oferdu after they found him lounging in the gazebo during a break in the rain. They now know which room is his because Bitty was able to follow his footsteps through the castle. This makes them feel very proud of themselves, as they should. This is an excellent result.

We plan, as a team, how we’re going to sneak me in with Bitty on the lookout. First, we need to find me a uniform of a Patron on staff, which has me tingling in anticipation as I’ll get to sneak and steal one from the royal launders.

But the rest of our day is uneventful. It starts to rain again so the next part of our plan is postponed. We spend the afternoon eating and playing Talamu (I suck, which surprises no one), and we have an early night.

Rolling over in bed, I see the naked body of a man. It’s Riley’s pale, freckled skin glowing in the sunbeams of a new day. I stroke his chest, and he grabs my hand, flattening it against him roughly, as he pushes it slowly downward.

He flaunts his cheeky smirk and smoldering eyes that unleash immediate desire within me. My bare nipples harden almost painfully as I clench my thighs against the heat pooling in my core. When our hands reach their destination, I grip him, and he covers my hand with his. He guides my hand along his shaft, lazily pumping him to a full erection.

Unable to wait any longer, I hook my leg over his waist to straddle him. I slide myself along every delicious inch of his cock, coating him with my slick arousal. He holds my neck with one hand as he rolls my nipple between his fingers with the other. I arch and buck against him with the painful pleasure.

I’m guiding him to my entrance, when a sound catches in my throat, waking me from my dream.

I let out a very angry, very frustrated breath through my nose. The moon—not the sunrise—is streaming through the window, and Riley and I are most definitely clothed.

Riley’s sleepy voice startles me. “You okay?” he says, reaching for me.

I look up—I’ve managed to scoot down the bed so I am facing his chest. “No,” I say, causing him to sniff and sit up on his elbow, rubbing his eyes.

The room is still dark, the moonlight only illuminating the back of him, keeping his front in a shroud of darkness.

“Nightmare?”

I let out a breath, dragging my word. “No.”

“If it wasn’t a nightmare, why aren’t you—oh,” he says, as I capture his hand and drag it down my body.

“Just scratching an itch,” he says, a statement, not a question.

I pull up the long, sleeveless tunic I was sleeping in and confirm. “Nothing else.”

His hand moves to my hip, gripping and dragging my underwear down with a delicious scrape until it reaches the point where I can kick them the rest of the way. Hooking his hand under my left knee, he moves it to spread my legs.

“As you wish, Firecat,” he whispers down to me, stroking the shell of my ear with his other hand.

With painfully slow swirls, his fingers caress my inner thigh. I reach down to hurry his hand, but he grabs it with a growl, passing it to his hand beside my head to restrain me.

“If you want me to do this, I will do it my way.”

Apparently, he is waiting for a response as he hasn’t resumed his movements. I breathe the word “okay” at him. His hand slides along my thigh so quickly my breath catches, only to have him stroke the skin next to my core, where it meets the edge of my thighs. While he keeps my left hand restrained, my other is wedged uselessly between us.