Twenty-year-old Claire must deceive a vampire prince to infiltrate the monarchy and discover their secrets while resisting her desire for him.
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Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Including the mission my family has sent me on.
My sister and...
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Vouloir (verb) to want, to wish
He knew I'd been watching him. I could tell by the look of mild surprise in his eyes.
I had two options: turn around and leave or stay.
I immediately ruled out leaving. There was no way I could pretend I hadn't seen what I'd seen.
I swallowed hard.
Or what I was still seeing.
Bastien didn't move to cover himself. No. He hadn't stopped doing anything. With our eyes locked, one of his hands was still wrapped around his thick shaft, slowly pumping up and down, up and down, then squeezing right around the tip in this slow, seductive rhythm that I wanted to learn.
He never looked more like a prince than he did right now. Sitting on a cushion with his legs spread. Unashamed and unhurried. Like there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Like he didn't care that I'd caught him with his pants around his ankles.
Moaning my name.
I needed to know why my name had slipped from his lips. The desire held me in place. Maybe he'd been imagining kissing me the way I'd been imagining kissing him.
And if he was, maybe I was doing something right after all.
This was all for a good reason, I reassured myself. The more he trusted me, the closer I could get. And the easier it would be to kill him.
On my next inhale, I removed the cloak Tyson had given me and dropped it in the snow, knowing it would infuriate Bastien, then parted the curtains and stepped inside the tent, forcing myself to confront the half-naked vampire.
Bastien tracked my movements as I closed the curtains and made sure to tie all the ties. I didn't want an errant breeze to interrupt this conversation.
When I turned back around, that ache between my thighs crested to new heights when he released himself to grab a handkerchief, deliberately wiping off his hands and thighs.
My breath came in short sips that did nothing to satisfy my need for air.
The desire to touch him like he'd been touching himself made my heart beat faster and caused sweat to collect along the base of my neck.
I wanted to run my fingers over him and bring his hard length to my throbbing middle while he kissed me into oblivion.
I didn't know why, or where the idea came from, only that there was a primal need inside me to be filled with him.
It was shameful, but I was already a ruin.
As if he could sense my desire, Bastien opened the connection between us, which only drew me deeper into the fantasy. Pulling my attention into him and forcing me to unburden my worries as I listened to the sound of his voice.
