Page 45 of Crown of Iron (The Crown Trilogy #1)
With a bright smile, I lead him out to the courtyard and place his hands on my waist. “Just sway your body to the music and mine will follow.” I curl my fingers into the silky hair at the nape of his neck, and he moves his hips, stepping to the side and then back.
As his confidence builds, he moves his hand to the small of my back and pulls me closer.
I study his face, memorizing every detail from his deep eyes to his strong nose and his perfect mouth.
My lips tingle and I rub them together, trying to satisfy the urge to press them to his.
His fingers dip lower down my back until they rest on the swell of my ass.
There’s no longer any room between our hips as they move together.
Perhaps, I should put a respectable amount of space between us.
There is bound to be someone around who recognizes me.
But as I watch a strand of his hair fall over his forehead, I can’t find it in me to care about anything else.
I brush it back in place, letting my fingertips linger.
“You implied before that your life isn't perfect, but you are, Kyron LeFur. To me, you are absolutely perfect.”
The words flow out of my mouth like the water sliding down the marble bodies in the center of the fountain. I don't feel ashamed of my confession. In fact, it feels right to tell him how I feel.
He drops his forehead to mine and whispers, “Thank you.”
I rest my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and taking slow breaths to subside the ache in mine. If only I could always shower him with compliments and assure him that he is valued and wanted, because he is.
Rational thought says I'm investing too much too soon, but my heart firmly disagrees. I want to memorize the planes of his body and the taste of his lips. I'm desperate to learn more about him and share my secrets.
Wrapped in each other's arms, our bodies swaying to the music, I realize I would recklessly give him everything, and nothing can make me regret it.
The back door the staff uses for the palace's deliveries creaks open, and Kyron and I cringe before tiptoeing through the dark kitchen to the dining room. The last thing we need is someone reporting to the king how we stumbled in together hours before dawn.
We enter the main banquet hall, and Kyron motions for me to follow his lead.
Pressing our backs to the wall, we skirt the outer perimeter and move toward the entryway.
He places a finger to his lips and cranes his head around the corner.
When the surrounding rooms appear silent, he moves into the wide hallway and heads for the foyer.
We reach the front of the palace and creep up the first step of the imperial staircase.
The steady beat of boots on the polished floor echoes from the drawing room, and we sprint to the first landing. I break one way, heading for the visitor's quarters, and Kyron moves toward the stairs leading to the royal bedrooms.
“No, no,” I whisper, grabbing the back of his jacket. “There are too many guards stationed that way.”
Kyron stumbles back and I stifle a giggle with my hand. Fighting a laugh of his own, he grabs my wrist and pulls me up the last flight of stairs.
“You could have warned me of your plan ahead of time,” he says, eyeing the doors we pass.
“I didn't expect this to be a covert operation. I thought I was just walking with you to your room.”
We turn at the end of the corridor, and two soft voices carry from the other end.
Kyron frantically searches the hallway and pulls me behind the thick, long drapes.
He pushes me back until my spine flattens to the window and the front of his body aligns with mine.
His forearm rests above my head and he closes the distance between our faces, whispering, “Communication is key to any operation, princess. If you would have told me you wanted to go to my room, I would have happily obliged.”
“Who's there? Show yourself,” says a guard.
Kyron stiffens, and I tangle my fingers with his. “Shadows,” I command.
The dark clouds slide over my palm and down my arm. I pull, willing his gift to change to the surrounding colors. Greer once described the way I can use Kyron's shadows to cloak like a strange ripple in the atmosphere. Not perfect, but good enough to hide from the unsuspecting eye.
The guards stomp toward the window and pull back the curtains. I peek over Kyron's shoulder as they look around, turning in a circle. The confusion on their faces is priceless, and I press my mouth to Kyron's chest to keep from laughing.
“I swear I heard?—”
“You have to stop drinking before duty,” the other guard says, releasing the drapes. He marches away, mumbling his disapproval, and his partner's hurried footsteps trail after him.
Kyron chuckles. “Remind me why you waited until now to camouflage us?”
I shrug and step under his arm, releasing his gift from my hold. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He falls in step next to me, and we walk to the door at the end of the hallway.
Leaning on the doorframe, he looks at his boots.
“Tonight was the first time I've done something outside of Basecamp that was normal.” He looks up at me, his hair threatening to fall into his eyes.
“I didn't expect wife hunting to be so much fun.”
I smile and match his stance on the other side of the doorway. “I had fun too. It's one of those nights I wish would never end.”
“We still have a couple more hours until the palace staff makes their rounds, and I told you I would happily oblige taking you to my room. And…”
I lift a brow. “And?”
“I hate to see it end as well.” He turns the handle and swings his door open. He tilts his head toward the inside of the room. “Stay for just a little while.”
I don't need to weigh my options. I know what I want.
This has been one of the best nights of my life.
There were no expectations of me or people watching my every move.
It was just me and Kyron being ourselves and enjoying each other's company.
I can't pass up the chance for a few more stolen seconds.
“Just for a bit,” I say, stepping inside.
His cozy room reminds me of a lavish version of my quarters at Basecamp, with rich dark woods and plush furnishings.
Journals and papers litter the round breakfast table, outfitted with two black and red striped upholstered chairs, and a fire crackles inside the hearth in the corner.
The bed is just enough space for him to roll to his side and a fluffy ivory and scarlet blanket adorns the top.
He takes off his jacket and places it on the coat rack by the door. “Make yourself comfortable. I'm going to remove the glass from my eyes.”
He disappears into the washroom, and I sit on the edge of the bed and remove my shoes.
The damn things started acting like torture devices hours ago, but I wasn't about to return to the palace until it was time. After rubbing my aching feet, I reach for the pins in my hair and sigh as the waves cascade over my shoulders. I lay back on the mattress and close my eyes, scratching my scalp. I didn’t think anything could top tonight, but this bed feels like heaven after hours of dancing and walking.
The washroom door opens, Kyron steps out, and I bolt upright.
He's slicked his hair back from his face, untied the laces of his black tunic, and his leather pants sit low on his hips.
As sexy as all that is, it's his eyes that truly capture my attention. They’re a smoldering sunset backed by the night sky.
His bare feet pat against the wooden floor and the mattress shifts under his weight. He lays back and gently tugs on a strand of my hair until we’re side by side.
As we stare at the beams across the ceiling, I quietly confess, “There’s only a day left before you leave and just the thought of it makes me miss you already.”
“Does it help to know I'll miss you, too?”
We turn our heads, placing us nose to nose. I search his eyes for any sign he feels obligated to return my sentiment, but I only find the truth. “Yes, it does help,” I quietly say.
He runs the pad of his thumb over my lips. “If I could take you away from all this, I would. I'd be the selfish asshole who keeps you for myself, knowing you’re made for something greater.”
I raise onto my elbow and push the hair away from his face. “I'd let you.”
His eyes flutter closed, and I kiss them, and the top of his nose, and his cheeks, and his lips. I savor the sweet and spicy taste of him. His tongue sweeps over mine, and I press my body closer. My entire being aches to feel every inch of me touching every inch of him.
His hand follows the valley of my waist, and his fingers slide under the hem of my jacket.
He clings to me, pulling me to him, and I slip my leg over his lower torso, straddling him.
His firm cock meets my center, pressing against the place I ache for him the most. I roll my hips over his, and the satin of my pants glides over the leather of his, creating a sensation that is next to sinful.
I love how my body cradles him. His hips between my thighs, the curve of my waist a resting place for his palm, and my lips a warm home for his.
Our bodies move as one, sliding and grinding against the other.
The friction we create intensifies with each roll of our hips. I chase that feeling until I need more.
Moving my hands under his tunic, I lift the fabric and reveal the soft, flawed skin underneath. “Will you take this off?” I ask, pushing the material higher.
He pulls his shirt over his head, and I place a kiss to the center of his chest. I run my lips over every scar and the tattoo down the side of his torso, taking my time to taste his skin.
Drawing from my experience with my own body, I move to his pecs.
With my eyes on him, I nip the firm skin in the center.
He hisses and lifts his pelvis from the mattress.