“I . . .” Her chin tilted. “I don’t.”
He leaned forward, absorbing the intoxicating scent of champagne laced with an unmistakable hint of arousal.
“Liar.”
Chapter Four
Fallon told herself not to react to the annoying vampire as he joined her on the step, his hands landing on the banister so she was effectively trapped.
When she’d left the privacy of her room she’d been determined to be cool, controlled . . . civil.
It shouldn’t be a difficult task.
She’d been playing the role of the perfect princess for over two centuries.
It should be child’s play to slap a smile on her face and pretend she didn’t want to stab a stake into the center of his chest.
But the second she’d caught sight of Cyn, her good intentions had shattered.
She didn’t understand why her emotions became a tangled mess, or what made her nerves feel as if they’d been scraped raw, but she did understand that her reaction left her vulnerable.
“Cyn . . .” She forgot how to speak as his head lowered and she felt the touch of his lips against her throat. “Stop.”
“Why?” His tongue traced the vein that he seemed to find so fascinating. “I smell your desire.”
Fallon struggled to remember why she was convinced this was wrong. The gods knew it didn’t feel wrong. Not when he was lightly scraping his fangs over her sensitive skin to send jolts of electric excitement shooting through her.
Oh . . . mercy.
She’d never met a man so tactile. His hands skimmed along the sides of her body, as if he was endlessly fascinated by her slender curves, while he continued to nip and nuzzle a path of kisses down her neck to the scooped neckline of her robe.
She instinctively reached to grasp his shoulders, her knees feeling oddly weak.
“I’m a princess,” she forced herself to mutter.
She had to remind herself why she shouldn’t be melting against his hard, savagely male body as his hands pressed against her lower back, urging her into contact with the thrust of his arousal.
His tongue traced the neckline of her robe. “I forgive you.”
Fallon squeezed her eyes shut. He was stirring raw, primitive sensations that were threatening to overwhelm her.
“I mean my father has promised me to another,” she said.
He slowly lifted his head, his brooding gaze locked on her flushed face. “Ah, the fiancé. Do you love him?”
She blinked in genuine confusion. “It isn’t about love.”
His gaze lowered to her lips. “Then it’s about sex?”
“Of course not.”
“There’s no need to sound so shocked.” His large hands gripped her hips, his incredible jade eyes dark with a sensual hunger that made her heart give a dangerous flutter. “The best relationships are based on lust.”
Lust? Toward Magnus? She choked back the sudden urge to laugh.
“My marriage to Magnus is a—”
“What?”