Page 62 of Shadows and Roses

They both spoke at once.

"If you’d prefer Darius—" he demurred.

"I don’t want to pressure you—" she began.

Then she huffed a laugh and waved to the table. "Have a seat, please."

He could do that.

His master would be horrified at his embarrassing behavior. The amusement must have shown on his face.

"Tell me what you’re thinking?" she asked. Gentle and calm, nothing like the commands from their first private visit. She hardly resembled that Queen at all.

He brushed away the memory and smiled. "Just that Master Iberius would be outraged at my inexcusably awkward behavior. He’d probably ask if I’m feeling well and send me to the healer."

Her smile was more open this time. "Maybe you can pretend I’m a client. What would you do?"

"Ah, let’s see." He looked around again. "Not much to work with. Some clients display their favored musical instrument and allow me to show off my abilities, or at least an opening for an engaging conversation."

A small bowl of dried flowers sat on the table. "Ah. Your rose garden would make for a lovely outing, but I know that you’re tired. Perhaps a massage?"

Her eyes lit up. "That sounds absolutely delightful. Please, if you don’t mind."

"It would be my pleasure." He gestured to the bed.

She let her robes slide off her shoulders as she stood, revealing her bare back and a thin silk skirt. Clearly, she'd been expecting intimacy with Darius. A small flare of irrational jealousy gave him pause as she laid on the bed, her head pillowed on her crossed arms. Gathering himself, he glided to her side and placed his hands on her skin. The other courtesan was not competition. And more importantly, Darius was not here.

She was soft. There was no mistaking the muscle beneath every inch of deceptively feminine skin. Muscles that were melting like warm butter beneath his fingers.

She sighed. "Thank you. This week… I wish…"

"Don't talk. Especially not about anything that's going to ruin my work."

She turned to smile at him, then closed her eyes.

Her body relaxed beneath his hands. If he was being honest, this massage was an opportunity for him to touch her. Perhaps he could satisfy his need by simply touching, exploring her with his hands, and be done with this insanity.

It was not helping. Her naked skin only stoked the fire in his chest. The more she relaxed, the gentler his hands became, barely doing more than running his fingers up and down her spine. Now he wanted more than a touch.

Perhaps if he tasted her.

Not thinking, only need and desire guiding him, he leaned down, closer, his lips brushing at the point between her shoulder blades. Her tiny gasp exhaled into a quiet moan as he licked up, toward her neck.

She stirred, her voice a low whisper. "Castien. I’m not a client. If you don’t want—"

"Would you like me to stop?" he murmured into her hair.

"No," she breathed.

His lips latched onto her neck, sucking and licking. Intoxicating roses swirled through his head. More. He needed more. Her breathing deepened as his tongue swept her skin. She caught his mouth on the next sweep, her tongue stroking a groan out of him. She squirmed until his hands lifted, then twisted her body and wrapped her arms around his neck.

When she settled back onto the pillow and rested her hands on his shoulders, her gaze burnedinto him. "Castien—"

His finger went to her lips. He didn’t know what that look meant, and he didn’t want her to ask if he was certain, to make him think too hard about this ache inside him.

"Unless you’re about to tell me to leave, let me show you what I can do. I want to. I want… you." He needed to touch her, every inch of her.

His finger drifted to her cheek, and she licked her lips, her tongue lapping at where he’d just touched.

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