I massage the tight muscles at the base of her skull and she weaves a little on her feet. “Can I kiss you, Isabelle Belmonte?”
She hooks her arms around my neck and lets her mouth answer for her. I have to concentrate on keeping my feet at the first taste of her. This woman always kisses like she might never get the chance again. No hesitance. No shyness. She gives it her everything, every single time. It’s different than I remember it. Better. Neither one of us are holding back now.
Lips and tongue and the barest tease of teeth.
Her kiss is a challenge I’m only too happy to meet. I dig my hands into her hair, tilting her face up for a better angle, and she makes a happy little noise. I could kiss this woman until my dying breath, but I force myself to gentle the contact, to finally break it and lift my head. Her eyes have gone a little hazy and she’s leaning on me like she might not be able to hold herself up if I let go.
Isabelle licks her lips. “Good morning, indeed.”
There are so many things I could say, so many options that will push us toward my endgame or leave us in disaster. Instead, I kiss her forehead and gently set her away from me. “Take a shower and get ready. We’re having guests in an hour.”
She blinks at me, something dangerous flickering into her dark eyes. “Beast, I have none of the things I need to get ‘guest ready.’ Gaeton doesn’t even have a hairbrush in his bathroom.”
That’s what I suspected. “Trust me.”
“Is this a kink thing?”
If I tell her yes, she’ll stop arguing, but while I might lie to get my way when it suits me, honesty is the best bet right now. “No.”
Isabelle picks up her coffee and stares at me over the rim. Her expression goes downright dangerous, every inch the powerful princess. “You know better than most that I have a public image to uphold. That’s not vanity; it’s fact. You bring anyone in here that aren’t my sisters, and it’s a territory issue. You know this. You can degrade me all you want for the next twelve days in private, but you don’t get to do it in public.”
That’s about enough of that. I give her a long look that has her shifting her stance like a bratty submissive that just realized they’ve crossed over their Dom’s line. “I know what’s at stake, and I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize your standing or reputation. But I will degrade the fuck out of you in public when the situation calls for it.” I step closer, caging her in with an arm braced on either side of her body. “Because that’s what you get off on, princess. You want me to put you over my knee and flip up your skirt so everyone in the room can see how wet your cunt gets when I spank that pert little ass of yours. You’ll get off harder knowing you have an audience.”
She’s breathing hard enough that I take the coffee back again to prevent her from spilling it on herself. Isabelle narrows her eyes. “That’s not fair. You just said this wasn’t a kink thing and now you’re throwing a kink thing in my face. You don’t get to have it both ways, Beast. You just don’t.”
She’s not wrong. “I’m telling you to trust me, Isabelle. No more. No less.” I state it blandly, as if I’m not asking for the stars when we both know I am. She might trust me with her body, with her safety, but she’s never quite trusted me with her heart and future. Not yet.
She considers me for a long moment and finally nods, but not like she likes it. “Okay. But if you’re only giving me an hour, I have to start now.”
I step back. “By all means.”
She picks up her coffee, as prim as the princess we call her, and strides back toward the bedroom. Gaeton walks through the doorway right as she gets there, and she goes up on her toes to give him a quick kiss. No telling if Isabelle notices the tension that thrums through his body at the contact, because she’s gone before I get another look at her face.
Gaeton, though. He’s not awake enough to hide from me. His expression reflects the growing determination not to let this go. Or, rather, not to let her go. I still have to seduce him into agreeing to a new set of terms.
Time. It all takes so much damn time.
I pour him a cup of coffee and hand it over as he reaches me. He eyes it like I might have tossed some poison in, too, but ultimately takes a sip. “I’m sore as fuck.”