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Even after all these years. After all my bravado and all my toughness, the thought of Penelope looking at me with disgust in her sky-blue eyes makes my stomach turn.
Penelope removes her hand from mine, hooking both arms around my neck. Staring into my eyes, the Queen of Nord looks like the Penelope I knew in school, grown into the most beautiful woman I could ever imagine. If I took all the best bits from every person I’d ever come across and put them in one body, she’d be standing right here with danger dancing in her eyes, swaying softly in the disused common room of a foreign castle.
There’s a connection between us. An unsaid understanding. An intimacy I’ve never felt before. She knows me. Knew me when I was a kid, and somehow knows me even better now. The skin on my jaw still tingles where she touched the edge of my scar—where most people are afraid to even look.
My hands hook around her waist, and I trace the lacy patterns of her dress plastered over her lower back. Penelope’s eyelashes flutter closed at the touch, her lips falling open as her face softens.
Has anyone seen her like this, I wonder? Has she let herself relax with another man?
I tighten my hold on her waist, already knowing the answer. She hasn’t. In this dimly lit break room, with nothing but dusty, stained sofas and worn-out books, I know she’s showing me something special.
And, hell, I’m showing her the same. I’m not the ruthless businessman. I’m not the grotesque burned man who makes people avert their eyes.
Here, I’m just a man, and she’s just a woman.
“Penelope,” I groan.
She presses herself against me, letting out a soft sigh. “I love the way you say my name,” she whispers.
“How do I say it?”
Pen opens her ice-blue eyes, glancing up at me. “Like you know me.”
We sway in the middle of the room as my body heats up. Blood flows between my legs, and I know she can feel my arousal. She presses herself harder against me, her breasts crushing against my chest. I let my hands drift lower, resting on top of her ass as Penelope grinds her hips toward me.
We’re crossing a line. Stepping over it with eyes wide-open, knowing we shouldn’t go anywhere near it.
But do I care?
Staring into Penelope’s eyes, I let out a sigh. “Maybe we should go back.”
Pen shakes her head, her brows drawing together. “I don’t want to.”
“What do you want?”
A sharp intake of breath. A bite of her lower lip. A slow blink. Then, “You.”
5
Penelope
I haven’t had sex in seven years, and I can honestly say it’s never bothered me…
…until now.
Desire was something I buried in the cold, dark earth beside my husband. My femaleness was something I locked away and forgot existed. I gave myself—mind, body, soul—to my kingdom.
But Asher, oh, Asher. Hitting me like a sledgehammer, my desire is overwhelming. Everything I touch is hard, muscular man. My hands sweep over Asher’s shoulders, feeling where his muscles round and taper into solid biceps. His arms hold me close, the hard planes of his chest crushing against my softness.
I want him. Desperately. Ferally. Like I’ve never wanted anyone before.
I want to feel. For the first time in years, I want to feel the sweep of a palm over my thigh. I want something thick and hard buried between my legs. I want him to tangle his fingers in my hair and tug, whispering dirty nothings in my ear.
I’m not Penelope, Queen of Nord—I’m nothing but a woman in a man’s arms.
Asher’s eyes darken, his eyelids hanging low. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Pen?”
“No, but does it matter?”
