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"Louder," he demands, refusing to be denied.
Maybe he is a tyrant, after all. But he's my tyrant. And God help me, I love his twisted games. Every wicked one of them.
I come again, screaming so loud my voice breaks.
When it does, he presses his forehead to mine, his lips sweet and gentle against mine. "Good girl," he breathes against my lips. "Good girl, angel."
My god. This wicked prince is going to be the death of me.
Chapter Seven
Troy
"Ican't believe you cooked for me." Thalia looks at me from beneath her lashes, a sweet smile dancing on her lips.
"It's just dinner," I murmur, caught off guard at the way she looks at me as if I'm some kind of hero. I'm definitely not. Thanks to me, she could have been seriously hurt today. Cooking her a meal was the least I could do to make it up to her.
Next time she says she doesn't want to fucking swim, I'll listen.
I can't regret what happened between us today, however. Aside from the terror of watching her plummet into the pond, every goddamn moment was perfection. I've never felt closer to anyone than I do to her.
She understands me in ways no one else ever has. Not even Samson sees through me like she does. I've known him my entire life, but he sees what I want him to see. Not Thalia.
She sees what festers under the surface—all those parts I tried to bury a long time ago. With her, I can't pretend I don't feel anything. I feel all too fucking much.
And God help us both, but I love every second of it.
She's in my head—in my heart—and I don't want to let her go. I feel…protective of her. I've never been afraid for anyone like I was afraid for her today. For a brief moment, I thought I'd lost her.
I saw a future without her—one as cold and bleak as my past. A piece of my soul died. It blazed back to life when she pressed her lips to mine, wrapping her soft body around me.
I'm keeping her. Come hell, high water, or a war with my father, this curvy little angel is all fucking mine.
"I didn't know princes could cook," she says, teasing me.
"Oh, I see," I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "You think we're useless layabouts, huh?"
"I mean…" She shrugs, her smile turning sassy.
I narrow my eyes on her.
A soft laugh escapes her lips. "You said it, not me."
"Well, sweetheart, I hate to disappoint you," I drawl, folding my hands together over my stomach, "but this prince can cook; he can clean. He can even spank your gorgeous ass without breaking a sweat."
She laughs again, a wicked, delighted sound that makes my cock throb. Jesus, she's so fucking beautiful. And so fucking sweet.
Where the hell did she come from?
I watch her eat, curiosity raging through me. I want to know everything about her, but I know next to nothing. She knows so much about me, yet she's a gorgeous little mystery.
"Where did you come from, sweet Thalia?"
She lifts her eyes from her plate, glancing across the table at me. "What?"
"Where did you come from? You didn't spring up out of the ground." My brows furrow. "Unless you really are a wood nymph."
"A wood nymph?" She shakes her head, smiling. "I'm not a wood nymph, Troy."
