Page 89 of Heartbreak Prince

“If you must,” he replies.

“That’s settled, then.” I sidle to the right and step out of his space. As I move away, I reach for the side buttons of the bodice, and again I feel the sickening tug at my stitches.

“I’ll do it,” Vawn offers.

Inwardly I groan, not because of the pain but in anticipation of his proximity. I should be used to him by now—somewhat immune to the magic of the raw sexual energy that seems to radiate from him as a matter of course. He doesn’t even try—it just happens. Desire is a byproduct of his existence.

He’s already approaching, taking my arm and lifting it so he can access the buttons along my side. They’re tiny and finicky, so it takes him a while to get them all undone. During the process I stand there and try to breathe and yell at myself for the way I feel when we’re alone. My head is a storm, and my chest is a swirl of fluttering birds, settling now and then only to take off again in a mad rush of feathers.

When he’s done with the buttons, Vawn helps me out of the gown and its underskirts, despite my muttered protests. Lady Kaenan’s maids didn’t put a corset or bustier on me tonight—they simply added more swaths of cloth around the bandages to give me enough support. Thanks to those strips of white cloth, my nipples are covered, but barely.

Vawn surveys my chest with obvious appreciation, but he appears more distracted by the lacy white panties, ribboned garters, and sheer white stockings I was wearing beneath the gown and its crinoline.

“That is a different look for you.” He licks his lips, then glances at my face. “I’m used to seeing you in black or brown.”

“You can go now. Thank you for your help with the buttons.” As he walks toward the door of his room, I add, through gritted teeth, “And thank you for everything you did while I was unconscious.”

Blood rushes to my throat and face, and I push away the vague memories of that delirious ride on the carpet. The idea of Vawn having to clean shit from my privates, as though I were a helpless baby, is too awful to think about. Despite his admiration of my lacy underthings, the experience must have changed the way he thinks about me. Even if we hadn’t been on the verge of parting ways, he would never touch me again the way he did in Weaver’s Canyon—not after performing such a foul task.

Vawn halts at the door between our rooms and looks back, frowning at me. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Torturing yourself with shame. Everything I did for you was in pursuit of your survival, and I would do it again.” His voice is so deep, so full of resolve, that it gives me chills. It’s a tone he rarely uses, and though I like his lighter, more playful tones and his seductive cadence, I love this voice the best. It’s the voice of someone responsible, powerful, and capable.

“You’re still troubled.” He tilts his head. “Explain.”

“It’s nothing. Only… you must think me disgusting after that.”

Light breaks like dawn in his eyes as he grins. “You’re afraid I don’t find you desirable anymore? Darling, I’ve been present for some very unhinged parties, at which I’ve watched other people soil themselves in a number of ways, only to fuck them on some future occasion. The natural emissions of the body don’t make it permanently undesirable. Those things can be washed away and forgotten.”

“True,” I murmur.

“What interests me more is the fact that you want me to think you’re fuckable.” He prowls toward me, a wicked smile playing over his mouth. “But you said our little tryst in Weaver’s Canyon was going to be the only time.”

“It was. It is.” I want to retreat, but I stand my ground, holding fast even when he reaches me.

Vawn watches me for a moment, observing my reaction to his nearness. He bends close to my breast, inhaling my scent, then moves his nose along my neck, never touching my skin, only hovering and breathing.

My nipples peak and my heartbeat skates higher.

“Shall I prove to you that I’m not revolted, lovely?” Vawn murmurs. “Would my tongue in your slit convince you?”

I suck in a panicked breath. “I’m wounded, as you’re so fond of reminding me.”

“I’ll be so careful. I’ll give you the most delicate little orgasm.” His hand hovers between my legs, nearly touching the silky fabric covering my pussy. When I shift forward slightly, he hums with triumph and cups his hand between my legs.

“You know I want you terribly,” he confesses. “I felt you watching me all night, so remote and beautiful and disapproving behind your mask. It made me so fucking hard.”

That’s why he was aroused? Because of me?

“I don’t understand you one bit,” I whisper.

“You do, though. When it matters, you do.” His mouth drifts along my cheek, approaching my lips, but I turn my head away. Kissing is too much. Too confusing.

“Fine,” Vawn seethes, his breath hot on my cheek. “I’ll kiss you elsewhere. Get on the bed. You’ve been standing all night.”

The sheets have been changed since I was last in the room. I fold down the covers and slide onto the clean, fresh surface, leaning back against the plump pillows. The luxury of it all relaxes me and conspires to dissolve any remaining resistance I possess.