Page 48 of Ivy & Bone

A small whimper escaped her lips.

“Do you want more?” he breathed. “Or are you still unaffected?”

“Cyrus,” she gasped.

Heat flared in his chest at the desperate way she said his name. She started to move against him, grinding along his fingers, urging him to continue.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, Cyrus.”

There it was again, his name on her lips. Gods, he could listen to her whisper his name like that forever.

“As you wish.” Cyrus’s fingers started moving again, plunging into her, then out, pumping more and more. She writhed against him, groaning and crying out with each movement as she neared her climax. He moved faster and faster, spurred on by the growing wetness inside her. And when the pleasure overcame her, it claimed him, too, and they tumbled over the edge together, both gasping and moaning, sharing breath and heat and satisfaction. They were both panting as their bodies relaxed against the ground, neither of them feeling cold anymore. Cyrus glanced over at her, but her eyes were still closed, a look of contentment on her face. She seemed relaxed. Completely at ease.

Strangely smug at the thought of satisfying her, Cyrus leaned his head back. A small, nagging part of him told him to keep going; to finish the deed. Just a few more steps, and he would have her magic. All that power would be his. He had no doubt Prue would consent. She had all but begged him to continue.

She would let him. He knew it.

And yet . . .

He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

It isn’t the right moment, he told himself. We have time. I don’t want to rush it. If she pushes me away now, the plan will fail.

But his excuses seemed feeble to him. He knew the real reason. It wouldn’t feel the same. The sheer bliss, the indescribable pleasure they’d both felt . . . If he continued with her, it wouldn’t be real anymore. It would be a game. A lie.

Why did that matter so much to him?

It doesn’t, he thought. It isn’t the right time. We’re both tired. I know I can seduce her again. Tomorrow, we’ll consummate.

He nodded to himself, believing the lie. He was playing a patient game with her, and it would take time.

With that thought, he relaxed against the makeshift bed, allowing his mind to unwind. It wasn’t long before sleep claimed him.

DENIAL

PRUE

When Prue awoke, her body felt sticky and warm. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was unusual, and it took her a moment to get her bearings and remember where she was.

As soon as she did, her head snapped up, her heart racing.

Sure enough, her body was sprawled over Cyrus’s, one leg draped over him. Her head had rested against his chest, which still rose and fell with deep breaths.

Oh, Goddess. Not again. Why was it so easy for her body to curl into his?

Her face burned at the memory of his hands on her the night before . . . and his fingers inside her . . .

Shame mingled with embarrassment, and she shut her eyes against the onslaught of unwanted desire burning up inside her. Goddess, why did she want him so badly? He was the devil. He was a ruthless killer.

And, technically, he was her husband. Which made this all the more complicated.

Biting her lip, Prue eased out of the blanket of ivy, extracting herself from Cyrus’s firm grip. Unfortunately, at the last second, her arm jostled his, and he startled awake, his eyes flying open. Prue turned away from him, snatching at her clothes that lay by the still-burning black fire. Thankfully, her shift was dry, and she slid it on quickly.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Cyrus drawled, his voice low and husky from sleep. It made Prue’s stomach coil with heat.

“I’m freezing,” Prue said without looking at him. “I’d rather be dressed.”

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