Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
And it also mattered that he wanted me to join him not to solely feed him. It shouldn’t. Because that really didn’t make this feel like a business transaction, but it too mattered.
A series of fine tremors moved through me as I rose from the back of the tub, my thoughts colliding into one another. What was I doing? Thinking? He wasn’t even a lord. He was a prince. I wasn’t sure as I picked up the soap and returned it to the shelf, not really feeling my legs. My trembling hands went to the loose sash at my waist. I didn’t need to do this. I could find another reason to linger, to discover his secrets, or he could send me away. I was already failing at reading him, so leaving now wasn’t going to change that.
Or I could join him.
And I would have a higher chance at cracking that shield of his if I was able to touch him, but . . .
I stopped, unable to keep lying to myself.
Getting in that tub with him had nothing to do with aiding my abilities or proving how valuable I was to the Baron.
It was the fact that I could touch him and not see or hear anything. I could just feel. It was because I . . . I liked touching him.
It was because it was him. The Hyhborn that had been nothing but a ghost for the last twelve years, but now was very real and very much here.
A sweet, heady warmth invaded my blood at the mere idea of touching more of him. Of being touched by him.
Still, I hesitated. I wasn’t worried about consequences. I knew there were no diseases that could pass between mortal and Hyhborn, and I took precautions, an herb to prevent— what had Prince Thorne called it? A fruitful union? Besides, it was incredibly rare that a caelestia was even born. I halted because if I got into the tub with him, things could quickly spin out of control, like they almost had in the shower. Or, more out of control than things already felt. But that was it. The part that sent my heart racing. I didn’t know if I would want to put an end to things if they did progress.
And it had been a fairly long time since I’d done more than touch— felt more than my own fingers or another’s inside me.
Long enough that I had begun to wonder if it were possible to become a virgin once more.
But he was the Prince of Vytrus— it was said that no lowborn lived within a hundred miles of his Court. That those who trespassed were never seen again. But I didn’t get the impression that he despised lowborn. Or at the very least, he didn’t speak as if he did. Perhaps what was said of him was only partly true.
It didn’t matter, though.
My fingers undid the sash, my body and mind clearly knowing what they wanted. What I wanted. The robe parted and I let it slip past my shoulders, down my arms, and then to the floor, where it pooled at my feet. Warm, damp air teased already sensitized flesh. Dark strands of hair clung to the damp skin of my breasts and back as I turned.
The Prince was watching me through half-open eyes, his lips parting as I approached him. I thought I . . . I saw surprise flickering across his features, but it was gone before I could be sure. It very well could’ve been my imagination, but I did see that faint golden glow. My gaze tracked over the radiance outlining his shoulders. The soft light was beautiful— and a stark reminder of how otherworldly he was.
“I find pleasure in looking upon you,” he said, having noted what I was staring at.
I felt a strange, silly jump in my chest. I didn’t know if he could detect the shivers that came and went, but he didn’t blink. Not once as he lifted his hand to mine.
My pulse hammered as I placed my palm in his. Long, callused fingers closed around mine. The simple act of our hands joined together was a shock. His grip was steady and firm as I stepped over the side of the tub and into the warm, sudsy water, placing my feet on either side of his legs.
I began to lower myself, but he let go of my hand and clasped my hips. The feel of his hands against my bare flesh was a shock, a branding. I didn’t move.
Prince Thorne tipped his head back, and though I could see only a hint of those stunning eyes, I could feel his stare hot and hungry against my skin. Hadn’t he said he was always hungry? But I thought it was more than just the need of all Deminyens. The slow slide of his perusal felt like a physical caress over the width of my jaw and mouth, down my throat and across the tingling skin peeking between the strands of my hair. And lower still, over the curve of my stomach, the flare of my hip, and . . . and between my thighs.