Page 51 of Crown of Roses
“Are you hurt?” He ran his hands along her arms, down her waist, to her thighs where he stopped, and the heat of his palms burned through her gown and into her skin.
Maeve shook her head. “No. Just brought back some unwanted memories, is all.”
Rowan’s thumbs drew lazy circles over the tops of her thighs. “I know someone who can help with that.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “A memory keeper. A fae capable of taking away awful memories, of planting new ones in your mind.”
“They can do that?” Her body tingled everywhere he touched, and a delicious heat spread through her, caused parts of her to ache. Caused her to want. To desire.
“Anything can be done. For a price.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and he stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful.”
“So are you.” The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back, and Rowan blinked down at her in surprise. “Your cuffs are gone,” she explained “It makes you…overwhelming. In the best way.”
He grinned and it was enough to boost her confidence, so she carefully reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He stiffened and pressed his lips together in a firm line. But she tugged him closer. “Thank you for coming back for me.”
He shook his head abruptly. “Don’t give me your gratitude, Princess. It’s not what you—”
“It is.” She pressed one finger to his lips and silenced him. “You like pissing everyone off and they all think you’re some kind of deceitful prick.” His eyes widened and she jerked her head to the library doors, where Lir stood just outside. “But you…”
She ducked her head, unsure of how to continue. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me…”
His finger slid beneath her chin and tilted her face, so she looked up at him. “Made you what?”
She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. “Made me want.”
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me,” Rowan murmured.
“Is it working?” She inched closer to him, as far as her gown would allow.
His hands slid under her bottom and he dragged her forward, then growled when the long length of her skirt kept her from being flush up against him. He reached down and grabbed the hem of the fabric. “This is a pretty little number.”
“Yes.” A sigh escaped her. “Apparently it’s not appropriate for me to wear leggings.”
“Absolutely not,” Rowan agreed, and the corner of his mouth curved.
“But, it has pockets.” Maeve arched back and displayed them proudly. She found she liked the way his greedy gaze engulfed her. The way he watched her like she was a treat, luscious and satisfying. His hands moved to the front, and he gathered the hem of her dress in his fists, raising the fabric inch by inch. But then she noticed his wrists, and the skin was raw and tender where his cuffs had once been.
“Rowan.” She placed her hands on top of his and stilled his movements. “Did Tiernan remove your cuffs?”
“Yes.” His face was a mask. Not offering anything, not hiding anything. Just blank.
She thought of her own cuffs, of the powerful blood curse pulsing beneath the metal bound to her skin. She imagined what it would be like without them, wondered if it would be freeing, welcoming, or terrifying. “Did it hurt?”
Rowan winced. “Yes.”
“What did you give him in exchange for it?”
“So many questions.” He bent down and planted a light kiss on her forehead.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me.” He eased her dress higher, so the beaded fabric pooled around her upper thighs. “It’s a good quality to have, being curious and inquisitive.”
“I suppose.” So far it seemed to get her into too much trouble.
“May I ask you a question now?” Rowan tugged her to the edge of the table and Maeve’s legs instinctively lifted and wrapped around his waist. She could feel him then, every hardened inch. His fingers toyed with her sheath before gliding higher.
