Page 113 of Promise of Darkness
And then one kiss segues into another.
“You’re cheating,” I protest, coming up for air.
“I always cheat.” He breathes the words against my lips, hips grinding against me. “But technically—” He nips at my lip. “—we never broke contact.”
Those firm lips nuzzle across my jaw, and somehow, some stranger has hold of my body. I arch my neck, moaning as his teeth graze the smooth column of my throat. Common sense is losing the battle against desire.
His hands slide down my arms, rough thumbs gliding over the sheer fabric covering my breasts.
No. No, this is bad.
I jerk against him, breaking the contact.
Thiago laughs softly. “There’s no one here to watch if you give in to desire, Princess.”
Only myself.
I rest my forehead against his chest, breathing hard. “I think you just tricked me out of paying off any debt I owe. Actually, I think I’m ahead now.”
“Oh no,” he purrs. “One kiss a day. Any extras don’t count toward your future debt. Section 2.3 of that fine print you mentioned.”
“Fairly certain I never wrote that into the contract.”
“Maybe you should read it again.” There’s laughter in his eyes, and whatever frustration urged him to push me against a wall and plunder my mouth, it’s clearly been sated.
Thiago takes my fingers, pressing featherlight kisses to the tips of them, watching me all the while.
Oh, he’s dangerous.
Maybe it was a mistake to ask for two rooms. Perhaps it’s time I face what lies between us, and not run from it.
A cold prickling sensation slithers down my spine just as I reach for him. It’s like a dash of cold water to the face.
“Wait,” I whisper.
He pays my warning no mind, his fingers capturing my chin. “You’re not going to cry shy now, are you?”
I can’t help feeling as though something’s horribly wrong. Little goose pimples erupt along my arms, my stomach twisting as if I just ate something foul.
“No, wait. Something’s wrong.”
The prince is immediately all action, one hand sliding to his sword as he backs away. He turns in a circle, scanning the area, and I feel a moment of stupidity when there’s nothing there. Nothing but the sound of people laughing several streets over.
“I know I… felt it.”
“I believe you,” he says. “Have you got a weapon?”
“Only my knife.”
He nods. “Let’s head back toward—”
There’s something moving in the shadows of the alleyway. The prince stills like a predator catching the scent of prey.
The gorge rises in my throat as if I drank pure cod liver oil, and every inch of me feels dirty. I can’t draw my knife quick enough.
“Whatisthat?”
It looks like the ripple aftermath of a stone thrown into water, as if the air itself is suddenly fluid. There’s something moving there.
