Page 29 of Fit for a King

Nicholas slid his tongue along the lip I’d just been admiring, then slowly let his eyes roam over me.

The smart thing for me to do would’ve been to go get the washcloth to clean him up and check for any missed spots. That way I’d remove myself from temptation and remove my body from his inspection.

But I couldn’t seem to remember how to walk. Hell, I could barely remember how to breathe as his eyes stopped below my waist, where my overeager cock was most definitely standing up and saluting its king.

I waited for his look of disgust and almost certain dismissal from his chambers—and possibly his service. But neither came.

Nicholas raised his eyes to mine, and the heat swirling there sent flames licking along my skin.

“Is there a problem, Bennett?”

Other than my body giving away my wandering mind? “No, sir.”

“Then why did you stop?”

“I…” I lowered my eyes, suddenly finding it difficult to concentrate. But that was a mistake, because my attention zeroed in on the tight fit of the king’s pants, and the hard-on outlined there.

“You what, Bennett?”

I swallowed, and imagined what it might be like to move down to my knees and run my hands along those spread thighs. Then the king shifted in his seat, raising his hips slightly, and I lifted my gaze to find a slight crook to his lips.

“I’m finished. I just need to clean up.”

I made myself turn away then. It was either that or do something inappropriate. More inappropriate than ogling my king.

Oh God. That thought didn’t help at all, because while Nicholas was my king, he wasn’t my anything—not in the way I wanted.

“What if I don’t want you to?”

I picked up the washcloth, trying to remember my place, and moved back between his legs to start wiping off any residual lather. “Don’t want me to what, sir?”

“Clean up.” His eyes found mine as he tilted his head back and I gently dragged the cloth under his chin.

My lips parted at the request, my dick throbbing as the heat in my body crept up my neck and into my cheeks. Then he reached for my hand, stilling it, and took the cloth. He dropped it on the floor, and as I stood there between his open legs, he placed my palm on his cheek.

“Sir—”

“Nicholas.”

I sucked in a ragged breath as he lowered his hand, leaving mine there, touching him. But while I’d held his face earlier, angling it for the best slide of the blade, this was completely different. This was sexual in every way, and the invitation in his eyes matched the desire flooding my body.

“Do you want to touch me?” he asked, and when I nodded, he slid his tongue along his lower lip and said, “Then touch me.”

My hand shook slightly as I gently stroked my fingertips along his cheek, and as I brushed them down to his jaw, a low groan rumbled out of him.

The sound was so hypnotic, I swayed closer and Nicholas opened his legs a little wider. The sun was shining through the window, bathing the room in light, and when I reached his chin I turned his face toward it. I wanted to see it shine over all those sharp angles.

His lips parted slightly, and I wasn’t sure what possessed me, what boldness overtook me, but before I knew it, I was stroking my thumb over his lower lip.

Nicholas’s eyes flicked to mine, but when he didn’t tell me to stop, I applied a little more pressure⁠—

A discreet knock on the door had me jumping back from him like someone was about to barge inside.

If I’d been thinking about anything other than how soft his lip had felt under my thumb, or the fact he’d let me touch him, or that he’d told me to call him Nicholas, I might’ve remembered he had to give permission for them to enter.

But I wasn’t thinking; that much was apparent from the erection I had no hope of tamping down. I turned back to the sink as Nicholas called out, “Come,” and I had to remind myself he didn’t mean me.

I could hear the door open behind me but didn’t dare turn to see who had entered.