Page 105 of Spearcrest Queen

He doesn’t put me down until we’re back in our bedroom. I don’t even have the time to catch my breath before he’s unwinding my scarf, removing my coat, dragging my jumper off over my head.

“Let’s get you into a hot shower,” he says, suddenly earnest. “You’re freezing.”

“Who’s fault is that?” I glare at him, but now he’s running his big hands all over my body, and despite what we’ve just been doing, his palms are hot on my skin.

“Yours,” he answers, “for being too stubborn to admit defeat.” He kneels to pull my tights and skirt down my legs, and I lean on his shoulders to step out of them. “Should’ve chosen peace over pride.”

“Never.” Evan laughs and presses a kiss to my stomach, lips cold and still wet with melted snow, and I pull away from him. “Now take your clothes off and get in the shower with me.”

“But I’m not cold,” he says, even though he’s already standing and shrugging off his coat.

I walk to the bathroom door, where I stop to remove my bra. “Trust me, Evan. You’refreezing.” I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my thong and bend over to pull it slowly off, throwing Evan a sly look over my shoulder, watching his eyelids sink low and his cheeks flush much darker than when we were out in the snow.

It works like a charm—Evan’s naked in seconds.

But we don’t make it to the shower.

Not for an hour or two anyway.

Christmas dinner at BlackwoodHall is grand yet still oddly intimate. The food is phenomenal and the fine china and polished silverware are out, but the combination of candlelight, music and the general good mood makes the evening feel homey rather than formal.

It’s strange to see a side to everyone that I’d never guessed. In school, I’d always disliked Iakov: he never smiled and was always smoking where he shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised to realise that he’s the group’s favourite. Zach and Sev bicker over both claiming Iakov for their best man, and Evan laughs in approval, as if evenhethinks Iakov’s the best choice for the job.

After dinner, everyone’s full, sleepy and a little tipsy, so we sprawl out in one of the living rooms. Coffee and cakes are served and games are brought out: Sev, Anaïs and Theodora play cards while Evan and Iakov, slumped shoulder to shoulder on a couch, play video games. I sit at a small side-table in an arched nook by the window, playing Zach at chess.

“I’m glad you two ended up together,” he says without looking up from the chessboard, surprising me. “He worships the ground you walk on, and you’re a good influence on him.” He looks up with a slight smile on his regal face. “He’s reading books, for god’s sake.”

I smile, glancing over at Evan, who’s clinking glasses with Iakov over the defeat of some nightmarish monster in their game.

“I think that’s more Inkspill’s influence than mine.”

“Inkspillisyour influence,” Zachary says, surprisingly, and then he adds, “Checkmate.”

Theodora replaces Zachary. I win by the thinnest of margins, and I think my win might be more due to the distraction of Zachary’s hand resting low on Theodora’s back than my own brilliant strategy.

With a kiss to the knuckles, Zachary pulls Theo away, and Evan replaces Theo. He’s a little tipsy, and I give him a mocking smile when he makes his opening move, expecting to easily trounce him.

I do trounce him—but it’s nowhere near as easy as I expected. Evan’s improved since the last time I played him: he’s more patient, calmer, taking his time to think his moves through, observing me with curious eyes when I consider my own moves.

“You’ve been practising?” I ask him, sitting back.

He smirks. “Gotta keep up with you, don’t I?”

“Or try, anyhow.” I smirk back at him. “Checkmate.”

“This is why I’ve got to keep practising,” he says, leaning over the table. “You’re too cocky when you win.”

I roll my eyes. “No, I’m not.”

He grabs my chin, tilts my face to his. “Yes, you are, arrogant girl.”

“Find a way to humble me, then.”

“I can certainly think of one way.”

I blink slowly, heat flushing into my cheeks. “You tried that earlier already.”

He closes the space between us, scattering chess pieces as he kisses my mouth. “Practice makes perfect.”

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