Page 70 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

My chest rose and fell heavily. “That is . . . that is kind of you to say.”

“It’s not kind of me.” He tugged on my hips. I grasped the edges of the tub, legs unsteady. Water sloshed against the sides as he guided me down so that I straddled his thighs. I shuddered as I felt the thick length of him brush my thigh. He slid his hands up my waist. Shivers followed his hands over my ribs and then across my chest, just below my collarbone. “I am simply speaking the truth.”

I held still as he gathered the strands of hair in his hands. A reedy breath left me as he lifted the hair, dragging it back behind my shoulders, and then there was truly nothing between his gaze and me.

The stars in his eyes turned luminous as his fingers lingered in my hair, as I looked over his features. I thought of the markings I’d seen on his face when he’d been unconscious— the trailing design that had been slightly raised. He’d said it had been blood and dirt, and it had to be true, because there was no sign of them now.

“When you first entered my quarters,” he said, “I wasn’t all that pleased by it, even though I enjoyed parts of our time in the gardens and before.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Very pleased.” His fingers made their way from my hair and danced across my arms, leaving a fine wake of tremors behind. Several seconds passed. “But I should’ve sent you from my chambers.”

“Why?”

“Because I have this distinctive feeling this isn’t exactly wise,” he said, and my stomach dipped. “Touch me,na’laa.”

I was caught between the unease his statement created and how his demand caused my pulse to spin. I released my grip on the tub, placing my hands on his chest. His back arched slightly, much like a cat’s when petted.

“I like being touched,” he said when my gaze lifted to his. “Do you?”

More than he could ever realize. Heart thrumming, I nodded as I dragged my fingertips down, under the water and over the corded muscles of his stomach.

I opened myself up as I explored his lower stomach, but there was just that shield of white as my fingers slipped beyond his navel. I glanced down. The faint glow edged his chest and waist, but I was unable to see through the suds. However, I knew what my hands were near. I could feel him resting against my thigh.

His thumbs swept over the tips of my breasts, causing me to jerk. “How long have you been in Archwood?”

It took me a couple of moments to answer. “For a few years.”

The Prince made another swipe over the center of my breast as his right hand followed the same direction as mine, slipping down my stomach and then under water. I sucked in a heady breath as his palm stopped just below my navel. His hand was so large that when that thumb began to move, it dipped between the crease of my thigh and hip.

“And in those few years that you’ve been here,” he said, the thumb at my breast moving in the same slow sweeps as the one along my inner thigh. His touch created a heat that spread across my skin and seeped into my blood. “How often have you proved to be quite the decadent distraction?”

I grinned, letting myself explore a little further, brushing my fingers against the thick, impossibly hard flesh between his legs. He made a sound, a deep one that came from his chest as I traced his rigid length. The flesh there was smooth yet gently ridged. Toward the base, he was thicker and rounder, almost as if the flesh was more . . . round there. I hadn’t looked close enough to notice that, and I’d never felt anything like it, nor had Naomi mentioned anything of the sort. I had no idea what that would feel like in . . . inside me, but my imagination . . .

Goodness.

My fingers floated away. I swallowed as muscles low in my stomach clenched. “That I cannot answer.”

“Interesting,” he remarked, and my hips jerked as his knuckles brushed the very center of me. The corners of his lips tipped up. The stars seemed to pulse in his eyes as his fingers dipped deeper along my thigh.

Feeling breathless, I shuddered as his fingers closed around my nipple. I tried to focus on anything other than what he was doing with his hands, but his touch was increasingly distracting, as was the feel of his flesh beneath my hands.

Prince Thorne’s head tilted to the side as I spread my fingers. Beneath them, the muscles of his stomach seemed to tighten and relax. “How did you become a favorite of the Baron’s?”

My heart turned over heavily as my gaze shot to his. “As one typically does.”

A tight smile reappeared as I lowered my head to his neck. I pressed my lips there, kissing him softly and slowly working my way down, nipping at the skin at the curve of his shoulder.

“Like this?” he asked, brushing the back of his hand along the center of me once more.

“Many ways,” I murmured against his chest, the salt of his skin and the faint flavor of soap gathering against my lips.

The hand on my thigh slid an inch or two down. I tensed, pulse skipping as one of his fingers drifted along the slit. It was a barely there touch, but my entire body jerked in response.

My fingers curled against his skin as I dragged my hands up. I licked at the hard line of his chest. I knew I should be using my hands elsewhere, but I was already distracted enough. Possibly too much, because I could barely see the white wall now. “What other— ” I gasped as a finger of his pressed down on the sensitive center of nerves.

“You were saying?”