Page 95 of Destined for the Fae King

Lysandir jerks backward, but I don’t let go.

“Mira,” he says in a strangled voice.

“Let me, please.” I slide my palm along his length. “You wanted to pretend it’s your cock inside me. You should feel it too.” And I want to touch him, to feel him and revel in this moment and the nearness we’re stealing.

He curses in the fae tongue and then rocks his hips forward, shoving his length through my grip at the same time he thrusts his fingers back into me. Lysandir leans in to me, our bodies so close but not touching. Water sloshes between us, we share the same air, but other than the intimate parts of us connected under the water, nothing touches. Each movement drives me close to the precipice of pleasure until Lysandir crooks his fingers, hitting that spot within me, and I shatter. I cry out, riding a wave of pleasure and rocking against him. I stroke him harder, my grip firm, trying to draw him with me.

Lysandir gnashes his teeth, growling something that might be my name. My release has just started to ebb when he vanishes. My fist closes around water. Emptiness fills me.

A bellowed groan echoes from a few feet away, and Lysandir is there, cock in hand. He throws his head back as his release spurts onto the stone floor.

I stare transfixed at the sight of him lost to his release, the powerful muscles of his body flexing. He finishes with a shudder that moves his whole body and then looks over at me, breathing heavily.

He releases himself to snatch a towel from a nearby shelf and toss it over the mess. “I’m sorry to shift so suddenly,” he says, still panting. “I worried the scent of my release in the water might linger.” He grabs two larger towels. “Or worse.”

“Worse?” I press my legs together beneath the water.

Instead of wrapping a towel around himself, he carries both to the tub. “Or I’d mark you through the water.”

“That’s possible?” I gape.

“I’m not sure.” He sets the towels down and, to my surprise, climbs back in the tub.

My arousal flares anew, demanding satisfaction despite the last of my orgasm still tingling through me.

“But I couldn’t risk it.” He grabs two other bottles of scent from the ledge near the tub and holds them up for me to see. “Which do you prefer?”

After we wash for real, somehow managing not to touch—well, no more than semi-accidental grazes—Lysandir changes into new clothes and I redon my underthings and dress. We find our way back into Lysandir’s main room, which is suddenly way too small, the massive canopy bed stealing all of my attention. It’s impossible not to think about what we could do there if not for the fact that I’m destined for his brother, a male who definitely isn’t in his right mind and clearly has a possessive streak a mile wide.

“I can let you rest,” I say. “I’m sure you’re tired.”

Lysandir gives me a sad smile. “Trying to get away from me?”

“No.” I scowl at him. His eyes hood, and I look away, crossing my arms in front of myself. “Though, I would if I were smarter.”

“You are smart, Mira.” He fills the space in front of me, so close but not touching. “Brave. Beautiful.”

I stare at him. “You’re not helping my restraint.”

He grabs a piece of wet hair, running it through his fingers before dropping it again. “You destroyed mine the moment I saw you.”

The moment he made a scene to try and get me to leave, to set me on a course that wouldn’t have led to the vision he saw.

I sigh and drop my arms. “What would have happened if I’d left that day without entering The Choosing? I’m not sure my family would have ever let me come back.”

“I’d have found you,” he says. “Some way. Somehow.”

But my stubborn self shattered that plan and got myself bound into the contest for his brother’s hand in marriage.

“Stay with me tonight.” He touches my upper arm. Electricity races under my skin, and I stare at that point of connection. He drops his arm.

“I’m definitely going to end up with your scent all over me if I do that.” And more. It was hard enough to resist him before. He clearly has some restraint left, even if it’s destroyed as he says, but mine has been ground down to dust, the last of it used up.

He stares at me for a moment longer, maybe debating his words. “I haven’t slept in that bed. The sheets won’t carry my scent.”

“But they’ll carry mine after I sleep there.”

A soft growl of pleasure rumbles from his chest. “I know.”

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