A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,66

she’d returned to her room. And she’d been tossing and turning in bed for what had felt like hours now.

I’m always thinking of that look on your face.

She could see it: Cassian in his own bed, sprawled out like a dark king, gripping himself, pumping hard—

She managed to whisper into the room, “Come back at dawn.”

She didn’t know if the House obeyed. Didn’t find out if it understood why she wanted privacy as she traced her hand up her nightgown, the slide of silk against her skin nearly unbearable.

She moaned into her pillow as her fingers slid between her legs, instantly slippery with the wetness pooled there, which hadn’t gone away since she’d been left standing in that hallway. Her hips arched into the touch, and she gritted her teeth, letting out a long hiss as she dragged her fingers down her aching, throbbing center.

I’m always thinking of that look on your face.

She slid her fingers in deep, writhing at the intrusion, unable to stop seeing Cassian’s face, that half smile, that light in his eyes. The powerful body and beautiful wings. She withdrew her fingers nearly to their tips, and as she plunged them back in, it was Cassian’s hand she pictured there, felt there. Cassian’s other hand that rose to clasp her breast, squeezing hard, just the way she liked it, a sharp, slight edge of pain to heighten the pleasure.

It was Cassian’s hand she rode, biting her lip to keep her moaning contained. It was Cassian’s hand that brought her over the edge and into a release so intense she nearly cried out. It was Cassian’s hand that slid into her, over and over again, release after release, until Nesta lay wrung out and panting upon the bed, with only the darkness to hold her.

CHAPTER

16

Cassian hadn’t slept well.

It was hard to sleep well when he’d been so aroused he’d had to pleasure himself not once but three times just to calm the hell down enough to close his eyes. But he awoke before dawn aching for her, her scent still in his nose, and another release had barely taken the edge off.

He’d told her exactly what he planned to do last night, but meeting Nesta’s stare over the breakfast table the next morning was more uncomfortable than he’d anticipated.

She’d beaten him to the table, and had been reading a book while she ate. It lay closed now, but from the spine, he gleaned that it was one of the romances she favored so much.

To break the silence, Cassian asked, “What are you reading?”

Color stained Nesta’s pale cheeks. And he could have sworn it took an effort of will for her to meet his eyes, too. “A romance.”

“I gathered that. What’s this one about?”

She dropped her gaze quickly. But the blush remained.

He knew it had nothing to do with the novel.

But she lifted her eyes to him again, spine stiffening. Like she was working hard as hell to make herself meet his stare. Her fingers clenched her fork. And when he looked at them, she pulled her hand under the table.

As if it were blazing with proof.

His blood heated as he realized the blush, her embarrassment … He made himself take deep, steadying breaths. They had to train together for the next two hours. Being at attention wasn’t only unhelpful, but inappropriate in the training ring.

It didn’t make him stop picturing it: that hand between her legs, her body as aching for release as his had been. The way she’d probably bitten her lip, just as he had, to keep from crying out. His cock grew hard, pushing at his pants to the point of pain.

Cassian shifted in his seat, trying to free up any space for himself. It only succeeded in making the hard seam rub against his cock, the friction enough to make him grit his teeth.

Training. They had training.

“The book,” Nesta said, a bit breathlessly, “is about …” Her nostrils flared and her eyes went a bit unfocused. “A book.”

“Interesting,” Cassian murmured. “Sounds great.”

He had to get out of this room. Had to sort his shit out before he went upstairs. The heat between them didn’t belong in the training ring. Where the fuck was Az when he needed him? Cassian had played buffer for Mor for years—where the fuck was she when he needed her?

But he couldn’t rise from his chair. If he did, Nesta would see precisely how she’d affected him. That is, if she hadn’t already scented it—and understood the shift in