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No hesitation. No recoiling. No disgust hidden behind a thin veil of pity.
“This doesn’t mean anything.” Penelope gasps when I cup her breast and suck its peak between my teeth. Her fingers tug at my hair. “Whatever happens tonight, it doesn’t mean anything, Asher. We go back to professionalism afterward.”
“Okay,” I answer, moving to kiss her clavicle, her neck, her ear. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
“I’ll be the Queen again in the morning.”
“What does that make you right now?”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, staring up at me through thick lashes. “Yours.”
13
Penelope
Half of Asher’s face is cast in shadows with moonlight cutting the harsh angles on his face. Sharp cheekbones frame his features as his eyelids hang low and dark. His hair curls at the temples, inky black against his skin. I let my fingers drift over his lips, swollen from our kiss.
Every stitch of fabric on my body feels too sensitive. His hands are broad and strong and warm, and they send thrills of pleasure rushing wherever they touch—but it’s his eyes that do the most to me. Dark, brooding, and dangerous, he looks at me like no man has looked at me before.
I’m not a conquest or a queen. To Asher, I’m just a woman and oh, it’s intoxicating to feel that way. To strip off all the expectations of my station and just let myself…be.
I want to ask him if he meant it when he said he came back to Nord because he was drawn to me, or if the reason he bought this house was because he intends to stay. I want to ask him if he sees me as anything more than a means to an end, a way to make himself richer.
I want to ask him if he feels what I feel when we’re together.
But…I’m scared of asking those questions because I don’t want to hear the wrong answer. And what is the wrong answer? If he says yes, he feels this connection between us—it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t be together. I can’t shirk my duty to be with him. I can’t be anything other than the Queen, always the Queen.
And if he says no, he doesn’t feel what I feel…well, I don’t think I could handle that. I may be cold and shuttered and cut off from most people, but underneath it all, I’m too fragile. Too weak to hear those words aloud.
There’s no good answer, so I don’t ask the question. Tonight, we give in to temptation. We let our fingers roam and our lips taste, and we let ourselves need. Nearly alone in this big house with him, I feel like a new woman. Heat winds its way through my core and all I want to do is squeeze my thighs together against the emptiness between them.
Instead, I walk my fingers up Asher’s chest, exploring every bit of exposed skin. I let my eyes wander over his body, taking it all in. I want to remember this.
Tonight, I’m not the Queen. He’s not a mining executive. We’re two old friends, drawn to each other in our loneliness. We’re scratching an itch, that’s all.
“You’re not going to slap me tonight, are you?” His eyebrow arches.
I purse my lips. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“That’s disappointing.” He pouts, his bottom lip looking too good not to kiss.
I roll my eyes. “There’s something wrong with you.”
Asher pushes his leg between mine and I stifle a whimper. His hands slide over my breasts, tweaking my nipples and sending another jet of heat straight between my legs. How would it feel to have his lips on my breasts without any fabric between them? Suddenly, I need to know. I need to feel his lips on me everywhere.
Closing my eyes, I arch my back and shamelessly roll my core toward him. The loose, gray pants that cover his strong thighs is soft between my legs, but I wish he were wearing nothing at all. I let my fingers drift down past the waistband, stopping just above his ass.
“You can touch me.” He grins. “I know you want to.”
“You’re too arrogant for your own good, Asher.” I try to purse my lips, but I can’t quite hide my desire. My hands slip lower, feeling the curve of his powerful muscles. He thrusts against me, gently, and I feel his ass clench and move beneath my palms. At my front, against my stomach, I feel the thing I’ve been missing for weeks. The hardness that will quench this relentless ache inside me.
Sucking in a breath, I meet his eyes. Asher’s gaze lowers to my lips, and he shakes his head. “Do you know how I know you’ve been through hell and lived to tell the day?” His hand slides up underneath my shirt, and the heat of his palm against my stomach makes my head spin.
“How?” My eyes are closed, and I tilt my head back, enjoying the movement of his palm. His fingers sweep just below my navel in intoxicating circles.
“You didn’t flinch when you saw my body.”
I open my eyes, frowning. “I’m not sure you’ve looked in the mirror lately, Asher, but your body isn’t exactly hard to look at.”
