Page 113 of The Robin on the Oak Throne

Another kiss down her jawline. “I don’t have to read minds to know that you want me.”

She shivered. “Graves…”

“You do want me, don’t you, Wren?”

“Yes.”

He brushed his lips against the shell of her ear. “Lower your powers.”

“More training?” she breathed.

“I want to try something.”

She bit her lip, clinging to the memory of vault breaking, and then with a breath turned her absorption off.

Instantly, her memory vanished and another memory flitted into her mind. But this wasnother memory. Her eyes widened as she realized this wasGraves’smemory. And it was ofher.

She called his name, and he looked up, only to be blindsided by her beauty. She was standing on the staircase dressed as Titania in all her golden splendor. For a breath, shefelthis desire for her. The need a bubbling, aching mess, trapped in a locked box, begging for her to break it open and steal it away.

And yes, he wanted her to kneel. As she had wanted to before him.

The memory melted, and her absorption snapped back on.

“Graves,” she whispered, breathlessly. “How did you do that?”

“It’s a new trick,” he admitted. “From the solstice.”

She reeled at the information. He had pushed a memory into her mind then, of the glen of wildflowers in Ireland that reminded him of her. But she hadn’t known he could do it any time. As ifthatact had changed his powers in some way. Or did it just link them?

“Is that…how you see me?” she asked, looking into those dark eyes.

“Can you not see it for yourself?”

She had assumed all of those veiled words of interest were true but layered beneath Graves’s carefully placed facade. This was stripped bare.

She swallowed as his hand trailed lower, tugging her off the seat toward him. The dress had no give to it. No slit. She could hardly move in it, and yet he repositioned her with ease. One hand putting her on her knees before him, the other wrapping loosely around her neck, a thumb to lift her chin up to meet his.

“There,” he said. His hand grazed lower down between her collarbones, then between her breasts. “Just as you wanted.”

She was breathless. Her body humming even before his lips met hers, his tongue arcing across her painted lips. She let him invade her mouth. A carnal moan left her at the first sweep of him against her own tongue, nerve endings sparking at the connection.

Fucking hell, she wanted this dress to be easier to get in and out of.

“If only we had more time,” Graves growled, his finger skimming the underside of her breast.

Kierse spread her hands on his thighs and pushed themupward. She could feel the hard length of him in his pants. She may not be able to see into his mind, but she knew precisely what he wanted right now.

“You shouldn’t start things you can’t finish,” she told him.

His eyes were liquid metal as he gazed down upon her. “You can finish whatever you like.”

Her pulse jumped in her ears as she kneeled before her faerie king. They’d been tiptoeing around this since Paris. She could have been in his bed at any point, but there was a hesitation that had driven a stake through their affection. A winter god in the summer. His wren at the height of her singing season. She wanted to go to him. She wanted the distance.

And now there was no distance.

She couldn’t escape him, and part of her wanted to see what he’d do if she reached for more. Her hand slipped up, wrapping around his cock through the fabric of his pants.

He grunted and stretched back, one hand twining in her hair and the other laid across the back of the limo. “Are you teasing me?”

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