“Tells you where he is.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry.” It comes out a little muffled, a little choked, and I turn to see her wiping the back of her hand across her cheek. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’m the one who should be sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was make you cry.” Sometimes I forget how much Garrett belongs to Wildemar—and to the world. I never forget that I’m royal, never forget what my duty to the people is. But sometimes it’s so hard to remember that they feel that same connection to us, even if it manifests differently.
“You didn’t.”
“It feels like I did.”
“Well, then, it feels wrong.” She moves to stand beside me, and though I’m not looking at her I can feel the heat of her through our clothes.
“Yeah, I get that a lot. Not very surprising, I guess, for a guy who brings his bodyguards with him wherever he goes.”
She smiles, just as I intended her to. “And here I thought they were your security detail.”
I laugh, and it occurs to me that, once again, Savvy’s the only one who’s been able to make me smile, let alone laugh, since Garrett disappeared. Oh, I can give a fake smile with the best of them—it’s in the royal genes, after all—but a genuine smile? A genuine laugh? Savvy’s the only one.
“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answers haughtily, then ruins the effect by pursing her lips in a you-mean-this-mouth kind of way.
And fuck if that simple little gesture doesn’t have the blood draining from my head straight to my dick.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” I reach out, rub my thumb back and forth across her bottom lip. And just that easily, the atmosphere in the room goes from light and flirty to dark and electric.
“Kian,” she whispers against my thumb, and the soft wetness of her breath sends heat sliding along my nerve endings. “This is—”
I know what she’s going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. Not here, not now, and definitely not with her. So I do the only thing I can do. I press my lips against hers and cut her off.
Chapter 5
Savvy doesn’t respond, for one second. Two. And then she sighs, a long, shuddering breath that seems to come from deep inside of her.
“Kian.” This time when she says my name, it sounds more like a plea than a protest. It’s the sound I’ve been waiting for, the one that got me hot last night and had me tossing and turning in sweat-soaked sheets until dawn.
I have the same reaction to it now, my cock turning rock-hard and my whole body going on red alert. And then I’m kissing her, softly, slowly, completely.
I take my time, savoring the softness of her lips and the fun little dips at the corners of her mouth. Then I trace my tongue along her full bottom lip, savoring the swell of it before sweeping around and lingering at the cupid’s bow in the center of her upper lip.
“Kian,” she gasps one more time, her head tipping back on her shoulders as her eyes flutter closed. “Kiss me, again. Please. Kiss me for real.”
It’s all the invitation I need. Taking advantage of her open mouth, I thrust my tongue inside and delve deep. She’s softer than I imagined, hotter than I dreamed. And she tastes sweet, so sweet, like strawberries drizzled with sun-warmed honey.
I try to be gentle, try to give her the tenderness she deserves and that I so desperately want to show her. But it’s hard when my whole body is on high alert and my brain is chanting take, take, take.
It’s like I’m drowning in her, completely lost in the touch and taste and scent of her. Lust—sharp and hot and all-consuming—rises up inside me. It rakes its talons through my belly, gets in my head and demands that I take her. That I fuck her. That I claim her, again and again and again, until she can’t remember her own name, let alone anyone or anything who came before me.
It’s a lot to ask for, a lot to demand, and there’s a part of me that expects her to push back, to tell me to get lost. But instead, she moans low in her throat, her fingers clutching at my chest even as she slides her arms up to wrap around my neck.
And so I delve deeper, my tongue stroking against hers as I do crazy, wicked, wild things to her mouth. As I revel in each moan and whimper that escapes her lips.
I bite her lips, lick the roof of her mouth, suck her tongue deep inside my own mouth and groan aloud at her response, at the way she searches me right back. Savvy is no shrinking violet, and she gives as good as she gets, exploring my mouth the same way I explored hers.
It feels so good—she feels so good—and that’s what finally gives me the strength to rip my mouth from hers. To ignore her protests and those deep inside of me as I seek to bring us back down. Because as much as I want to stand here kissing her forever, as much as I want to kiss her until our lips are slick and sore and swollen, there are three security guards standing outside watching us right now. And while I’ve never before minded them bearing witness to what I get up to, letting them see what passes between me and Savvy feels wrong.
And so I trail my lips down her cheeks, pressing soft, sweet kisses to her jaw, her neck, the hollow of her throat as I wait for her breathing to even out and her hands to unclench from around my neck.