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And Zynara realised it was a long time since she’d laughed with someone in bed. Or at any time for that matter. Never while they were playing.

It was dizzying.

So she flipped Lottie over, tied her wrists to the headboard, pushed her thighs open and thrust two fingers deep inside her.

Lottie waggled her eyebrows and smirked.

Zynara swatted her inner thigh with the paddle—and they both laughed when Lottie shrieked, then writhed, and clenched so hard around Zynara’s fingers they both felt it and panted at each other.

“More,” she begged. “Please, Zynara.”

“There’s a flogger in the toy box.”

“Oh, fuck. That too. Next. Please.” She moaned. Zynara curled her fingers. “I will do anything you want me to if you will just make me come again. My Qasira.”

That didn’t hit quite right, but Lottie was breathless and squirming, so Zynara added a finger and watched the woman’s eyes roll back into her head and her body strain as she sought to take everything Zynara was giving her.

She was shining with sweat—beautiful with it—and Zynara licked it from her skin.

Damn it if it didn’t taste like forever.

Lottie crashed through another climax and Zynara untied her hands and kissed her wrists.

She was going soft. She always looked after the women she played with—she always treated them well—but this care came from somewhere deeper.

She kissed Lottie’s bruises and let her lips trail over the skin like it gave her sustenance.

She soothed the throbbing heat she found in Lottie with her tongue.

She had never troubled so much of her soul for any other woman she’d ever brought to her bed.

But then, there was a strong probability Lottie was far, far more than just another woman.

If this curious feeling in Zynara’s chest was to be taken seriously, Lottie Finch might just be her woman.

She even let Lottie haul her over her face, her mouth hot on Zynara’s cunt and her tongue absolutely heavenly. Her eyes were even more penetrating. They watched her. Blue-grey like the sky just before the sunrise and full of care. For her.

Zynara wasn’t used to it. She gripped the headboard and tried to be fierce but Lottie would have nothing of that. She caressed Zynara’s thighs with her fingers, then slipped one clever hand around her leg and deep inside her—and Zynara fell apart, just like that.

And Lottie Finch, beautifully perplexing and irritatingly enchanting Lottie Finch, kissed her clean, held her tight and promised her everything was going to be alright.

That might even have been the truth.

It was much, much later before Lottie felt she could move again.

She lay sprawled in the tangled sheets still trying to catch her breath, her skin, her body, her mind—and damn it, yes, her heart—alive in a way she hadn’t felt in… ever.

That had been different. It had started hot—desperate and greedy—but somewhere along the way it had changed. Zynara had changed. The woman had let her in. Not just to the mind-blowing glory that was her body, but into something deeper, something real.

For once, Lottie didn’t want to laugh it off or turn it into a game.

She didn’t care who had won. She just wanted to stay there, wrapped in the warmth of this incredible woman.

Zynara lay on her side, facing her, one arm draped over Lottie’s hip, and Lottie loved the feel of it there.

She wanted to breathe her in. She wanted to map every inch of her with her eyes.

She wanted to be mapped— known —in return.

The weight of what they’d just done—not just the sex, but the way they’d connected—sat heavy and wonderful in her chest.

A spent little sigh from the Qasira was the sugar on top. Lottie acknowledged it with a grin.

“Don’t be cocky,” Zynara whispered. “You were good. You know you were. Don’t make me say it every time, you ridiculous egotist.”

“Every time? You mean there’ll be more?”

Zynara barely had the energy to roll her eyes. “Of course there will be. I think I’m addicted to you. You are—” She paused.

Lottie lifted one leg like a supermodel and hooked it over Zynara’s. She tugged them closer. “I am—?”

Zynara gave a long-suffering sigh, then seriously considered the question. “You are just what I need.”

It wasn’t quite what Lottie’s heart wanted to hear, but her ego would take it.

The Qasira took a deep breath, need winning the war with doubt in her eyes. “I’d like to suggest an arrangement,” she began—

But then, like a storm rolling in from the sea, a new noise from Malik’s superyacht thudded through the open windows. The revving roar of muscle cars.

Lottie watched it crush whatever had been on Zynara’s lips. The tension returned to her body, her expression flattened, her eyes iced over and her fingers flexed against the sheets before she untangled herself from Lottie’s body and rolled away. She sat up and reached for her clothes.

The tide of disappointment that swept through Lottie was almost frightening in its intensity.

“What were you going to say?” Lottie asked, sitting up on her knees. “Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him win!” Zynara kept her back to her. “You don’t have to go!”

Zynara pulled on her shirt and left the buttons undone. She turned to look down at Lottie. “It’s my palace, zin dyali . I’m not going anywhere.”

They both froze. Lottie blinked. Zynara held her breath. Zin dyali . A peculiarly Ain Zargieri phrase. It meant my beauty.

Zynara turned swiftly away and walked to the window. The term of endearment was thrilling, but the part of Lottie that was still working exalted in the other half of the answer too. This was Zynara’s palace, and she needed the princess to believe it.

Lottie grabbed her phone. She texted the secure group chat. The time was right.

— Is the yacht clear? —

Bili’s reply came fast. — All clear—

Ace was right behind her. —Light it up, babes—

Lottie’s pulse spiked with anticipation. She stood beside Zynara and wrapped her arm around her waist. They looked down at Malik’s party and the blazing lights and music.

“I know you thought last time was a disappointment,” Lottie murmured.

“What?”

“Explosive sex but no big bang.”

Zynara frowned at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I can fix that.” She held up her phone. There was a caricaturish big red button on it. Ace was as childish as she was. “Please let me fix that.” She tipped her head toward Malik’s boat.

The frown deepened—and then Zynara’s nostrils flared as she realised Lottie was crazy enough to do it.

“I cannot possibly condone… whatever it is you’re suggesting.”

Lottie’s thumb hovered over the button. Zynara didn’t move to stop her.

Drunken male voices roared in a thuggish cheer.

Revving engines of five muscle cars tore the air apart, their headlights flashing over the gardens, the high-pitched whine of wide tyres with neon rims, completely different beats pumping from each vehicle.

When one spun donuts on the lawn in front of the palace gates, Zynara swore softly under her breath.

She sounded so tired.

Lottie hit the button.

Malik’s superyacht blew itself apart.

The fireball was truly glorious. The explosion ripped through the night, reflecting off the water in raging reds and orange.

The tremendous boom of the shockwave punched past them, lifting the silk curtains and blowing a faint electric tang like ozone through Lottie’s curls.

Ace had outdone herself. Possibly a teensy bit heavy with the octanitrocubane, but Lottie wasn’t complaining.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

— Fucking A—

But Lottie was looking at the Qasira.

Zynara’s whole body jolted against Lottie’s, and then she stumbled forward, through the french doors and out onto the terrace, her eyes on the scene below.

She watched the men fall out of their cars, watched Malik run down to the water’s edge, his fists in the air, screaming like a spoiled boy.

She watched the remains of the boat burn on the water.

And she said nothing.

Lottie could see her running calculations in her head, analysing potential outcomes, and chasing possibilities forward and backwards.

Lottie recognised the moment, because she’d played out all the scenarios in exactly the same way herself.

She just had to hope Zynara came to the same conclusion as she had.

Zynara turned slowly and looked at Lottie.

Lottie held her breath.

Zynara was gorgeous in the half light, her shirt still open, the moonlight playing on the pale expanse of skin between her breasts, her entire body silhouetted by the glow of the flames behind her.

“Why?” she asked. “How? Who are you?”

“You hated that boat.”

“Were there people onboard? If anyone’s been hurt—”

“Please,” protested Lottie.

Zynara was silent for a long moment. Lottie watched her wrestle with duty, desire and distrust—and a deep, deep longing to fall back against Lottie and finally trust someone.

Lottie felt sorry for her—her poor conflicted Qasira who had tried so hard for so long, but who now simply needed someone.

Lottie had never wanted anything in the world so much as she wanted to be the person Zynara trusted.

Down by the water, Malik began kicking one of his cars.

A tiny snort fell out of Zynara. After a moment, it blossomed into a very low, very satisfied chuckle.

She crooked two fingers at Lottie.

Lottie didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, but she obeyed and padded out onto the terrace. If anyone in the city below had looked up to the palace they would have seen the Qasira demand a naked woman stand by her side as her brother’s boat burned in the harbour.

Lottie laid her body against Zynara’s. There was a faint tremble in the Qasira’s hands, but she pulled Lottie close, carded her fingers into her hair and tugged her head back.

There was a long, searching look into Lottie’s eyes and then a surrender.

Zynara dropped her face to Lottie’s neck and nuzzled in.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Lottie let her fingers gently caress the nape of Zynara’s neck. “Do you trust me?”

There was a very stubborn huff at her throat. “Not in the slightest.” There may have been a sniff.

“Do you want to?” Lottie asked.

Zynara nodded into Lottie’s hair. Then she crumpled and Lottie was the one holding her up. It cracked her heart.

“Come on, princess,” she whispered. “Let me take you back to bed.