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“What?”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” Pause. “Your Highness.”
“Can you blame me?” I say, my voice dropping lower than I intended.
Rowan blinks, biting her lip. Damn. I put my glass down and stand up, extending a hand toward her. She stares at it suspiciously, letting her gaze crawl back up to mine.
“What are you doing?”
“Take my hand, Rowan.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you something.”
“What is it?”
“Take my hand and find out.”
“You haven’t exactly proven yourself trustworthy so far, Your Highness.”
I try to hide my grin. “Rowan, call me Wolfe. If you call me Highness one more time, I’ll—”
“What?” She arches a brow. Cheeky girl. “What are you going to do?”
Lifting my outstretched hand to her shoulder and letting my fingers curl around the nape of her neck, I brush my thumb over her cheek. “I’ll make you regret it,” I growl.
Rowan’s breath trembles through parted lips as she blinks in rapid succession. Then, as if in a trance, she puts her tumbler down and takes a step toward me.
“Okay. What do you want to show me?”
I erase the distance between us, letting my chest brush against hers. There it is—her soft, hesitant breath. Yielding to me. Rowan lifts her eyes up to mine, staring at me through thick lashes. I let my fingers drift down the side of her body, resting them on her hip.
“Do you get nervous when I’m close to you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” Rowan says, her voice quivering ever so slightly.
“Liar.” My fingers slide around to her back, pulling her body tight to mine. “I can feel your pulse hammering.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m nervous.”
“What are you then?”
A blush stains Rowan’s cheeks as she struggles to swallow. Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. “Nothing. I’m just… It’s nothing.” Rowan’s palm lifts up to press against my chest, and she flicks her eyes up to mine. “Your heart is hammering, too.”
“You make me nervous.” I grin.
“Bullshit.” Her fingers slide higher, teasing the edge of my neck.
My eyes drop to her lips, tracing every full curve as I imagine how she would taste. We’re frozen against each other. I can feel her pulse thumping. I can see the desire blooming across her face. Her pupils dilating. Lips dropping open.
She wants this as badly as I do. We’re alone here. No servants. No staff. No media.
Just Rowan and me.
Would it be so bad to act on a few impure desires? To finally taste those lips and see if she’s still insolent when I’m inside her?
“Your Highness,” Rowan whispers.
