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“Could’ve fooled me.”
Ouch. “Wouldn’t have been appropriate to tell you that as my assistant.”
“But it is now that you married me like a mail-order bride?” A few weeks ago, I would have thought her tone was abrupt, but now…?She was teasing me.That subtle curve of her full lips? That was Alice having fun. Finding humor in our ridiculous setup.
“I believe calling you my wife buys me the privilege of appreciating you.” I dropped my eyes to my twice-roasted marshmallow as she skewered a second, refusing to humiliate myself by screwing it up again.
“For centuries, that title would buy you the privilege of heirs, too. Are we following all the customs of ancient nobility?”
“Luckily for us both, I have no interest in heirs. Ollie has successfully secured the family line.”
“The media will call for my head if I don’t give them a mini-Greyson. Force us to divorce for the good of the nation.”
That concept had me scowling at the fire as I rotated the rod in my fingers. “I’ll make a public statement that I’m infertile.” Maybe vasectomy advocacy was a thing? Everyone always left or died anyway; not much of a point in considering the alternative. The last thing I needed was more potential collateral—the kind that would bring me to my knees, that I’d burn the world to save.
“Greyson,” she giggled, shaking her head as she added, “it was a royalty joke.”
“Fine, but I don’t want their scrutiny on you.” I looked up right as she pulled her second masterpiece from the fire and mimicked the motion, catching mine on just this side of too-toasted. “It would paint you as a saint for staying with me. Couldn’t hurt.”
“You really do have to think of everything through the lens of the press.”
“Iloathethem.”
“I would, too, if that’s how I grew up.” She nudged my hand, and I looked down to see the now-melting S’more she’d set by the fire. “Here. Mistyvale special.”
“That’s yours,” I argued.
“Shut up,husband, and eat my dessert.” She took my laugh as the opportunity to pop the corner into my mouth. Begrudgingly, I took a bite, shaking my head as she smiled a victorious, feline smile. She ran her thumb over my bottom lip before pulling back and taking a bite from the same S’more.
I took my time looking her over—that satisfied smile as she closed her eyes, soaking up the flavor. But all I could think was that chocolate was the last thing I wanted to be eating with Alice Hart’s exposed thigh on mine. Watching her throat work should not have been sexy, but all I wanted to do was slip my hand between those creamy thighs and slide my way up as I ran my lips over it. The only melted chocolate I wanted to eat would have been off her pebbled skin. Her words didn’t dissipate the need she planted in my body as she asked, “See, it’s better fireside, isn’t it?”
“You look gorgeous tonight.” All I could see was this woman in the flickering firelight. Her tentative smile, the glimmer in her eyes. The chocolate smeared on her lower lip. Like she’d done to me, I brought my thumb up to brush it away before popping it between my lips to suck it clean. Her mouth fell open in surprise, and need ate at my sense as her eyes tracked the movement, the long line of her neck working in the harsh firelight.
And then she closed the distance, sending any other thoughts skyward as her sugary lips crashed into mine.
14
I’d Prefer You Didn’t and Said You Did
ALICE
Despite the million and one offerings, I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight.
Nope, I was stone-cold sober, mesmerized by the lines of his chocolate-smudged lips when I kissed Greyson as if my life depended on it.
His hesitation lasted only a moment, and then something between a purr and a growl rumbled in his chest, and the man moved. Still vaguely sticky hands came down on my arm and neck as he rotated to face me on the bench, lips moving in sync with mine. I couldn’t bring myself to care.
Because Greyson Hart was kissing me back with just as much frenetic energy as I was throwing at him.
Each movement was urgent. Each kiss was a little harder, a little rougher, a little more demanding than the last. Part of me had hoped it had been a fluke—my reaction to him on the beach that day. Evidently not.
One warm palm dropped to my thighs, and as his fingers wrapped around my leg, a satisfied rumble emanated from his chest when I parted them for him. Heat bloomed from my thighsto my neck, every inch of my body responding as he devoured me.
At some point, it swapped from my kiss to his. Taking me captive bit by delicious bit. Grey set the tone, the pace, the intensity, and I was so far from complaining as my breaths grew ragged. Somehow, he straddled the bench and hoisted me onto his lap in the next movement. Just like that, he took ownership of this kiss—of my body.
I loved it.
Legs parted, I settled over his groin, wrapping my calves around his back as his legendary strong arm got an entirely new meaning.