Page 85 of Consort's Glory
Embarrassment sent a rush of blood to her cheeks. Looking away, she muttered, “I just… I had the thought that I wasn’t sure we’d share a bed, is all.”
Grim, take me now.
She wanted to cringe. Gods, would he think she was clingy? Too attached, too soon? They had only just met, after all, and she had been nothing but trouble for him from minute one. What would he think of her if she started pining after things he had no intention of giving her, when he already gave her so much?
Warm, firm lips sealed over hers in a bruising kiss, startling her out of her spiral.
“So long as we are in the same territory, Margot Goode, we are sleeping in the same bed, skin to skin,” he breathed against her mouth. His fangs scraped gently at her lower lip in a soft reprimand. “Do you understand?”
Her answer was automatic, strangely breathless, and pleased. “Yes.”
Theodore hummed and kissed her twice more before he continued on into the bathroom. Setting her down onto the cool marble floor, he turned to a massive, glass-enclosed shower and pulled open the door.
Margot eyed it critically, trying to distract herself from the knot of anticipation winding tighter in her belly. It was big enough to fit at least four people, with three walls of black and white, veined marble leading to a floor of what appeared to be cedar planks. A bench sat at one end, and tiny silver vents winked in regular intervals around the walls.
It wasn’t until Theodore fiddled with the sleek silver panel by the door that she realized they were for steam.
With a low chime, a cascade of warm water fell from the ceiling to join a slow release of steam from the walls. The smell of cedar — Theodore’s smell, she realized — filled the room alongside the bright, clean scent of water.
The rustle of clothing drew her attention away from the jaw-dropping shower.
Margot turned her head without thinking, but by the time she realized what was happening, it was too late.
Theodore Solbourne stood by the door, his suit jacket shrugged off and tossed aside, his chin tilted high into the air as he flicked the latch of the tie pin at his throat. Setting that on the nearby counter without looking, it took only a few more deft, cat-like movements for him to remove his stiff collar.
Holy Glory.
Was it normal for men to have throats so sinfully, beautifully made? Margot felt a now-familiar heat pool in her belly as she watched him unbutton his wrinkled shirt with those pretty hands. Her mouth went painfully dry.
Goddess, his skin… Theodore had strikingly beautiful blue skin.
When he pulled the sides of his shirt apart and slid it down his corded arms, Margot’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. The urge to step up to him, drop to her knees and run her tongue over every inch of his chest and stomach was so visceral, she took half a step before she caught herself.
Theodore’s eyes darted up to meet hers just as he reached for the silver buckle of his belt, his gaze hot and hungry, but Margot was already turning away, her breath short.
“Shy now, darling? After what we did?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “No.”
“No?” The clink of metal had the distinct ring of cheekiness in it. The slithering sound of a belt sliding clear of loops came next, followed by the slow drag of a zipper. “Then why won’t my consort look at me?”
Because I want to bite you, she thought, squeezing her thighs together.
His internal voice rang in her mind. Then do it.
