Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,61

while he'd growled in her ear.

These were memories that would last a lifetime.

“You're looking at me like you're going to start taking bites.” His voice, thick with motherland accent, was raspier than usual.

“Would you care if I did?” she asked.

“Not necessarily. Just leave all the parts attached.” He put his free hand in her tousled hair, drawing the strands back away from her face.

She buried a smile in his skin. “Maybe. If you're good.”

“I was already good. Four times, unless you lost count.”

She scoffed. “Of course I haven't forgotten. You've left traces in your wake.”

“None on your throat, though. That's my gentlemanly nature shining through.”

Chey raised her head just enough to make eye contact easier. “And why is that?”

“Because of the stares you'd get back at the castle if you showed up with a mark or two on your neck. Unless you brought a handful of high-collar sweaters with you.” He arched a brow pointedly.

She hadn't thought about that.

“See? I'm right.” He gloated a little.

“Okay, okay. You did good.” She nipped the skin of his chest, pleased when he rumbled a low noise of pleasure.

“Keep that up and the number will rise.”

“Along with other things.”

He laughed. “Exactly.”

“I haven't worn you out yet?” She arched a brow.

“I should be the one asking you that.”

The ache between her legs was a testament to the truth of his statement. She had the grace to blush.

“I figured,” he added.

“Well, who knew you had such stamina? You can stop looking smug any time now.” Chey propped her chin on his sternum again, amused at his gloating.

“What? I don't look smug.” He cut her a devilish grin and unhooked his hand from behind his head. Reaching to the nightstand, he picked up the phone he'd left sitting there the night before.

While he checked for messages, Chey yawned and stretched her spine. It was difficult to tell what time it was; weak light spilled in through the cracks of the curtains, giving her the impression it was barely twilight outside or that it was early, but overcast.

“What time is it, and is there any news?” she asked.

“Time to get up and get dressed. Your escort will be here in a half hour.” He swatted her butt and set the phone down. “No new details.”

“What?” She glanced up at Sander, surprised. “My escort?”

“Back to the castle. Up you go. If you want to catch a shower, you should hop in now.” He sat up when she did, cupped her nape, and held her there for a quick kiss to her temple.

Chey wasn't sure what to think of being ushered off so fast after the night they just shared. She wanted to lounge and enjoy his presence for another hour or two, at least. As if he'd read her mind, Sander paused to lean closer.

“As much as I'd like to lounge around here all day, I can't. I have work to do before this evening when you come back.” He tweaked her nose and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

Chey grumped to herself. Work. She acted like he had all the time in the world to spend in leisure and more...creative pursuits.

“I forgot. Yes, I think I'll take a quick shower.” She rolled out of bed and snatched a robe, his robe, off a nearby chair.

“I'll get your clothes. Meet me out in the kitchen when you're done.” He tugged on a pair of jeans and winked over his shoulder before departing the room.

“Thanks.” Chey stared at the broad span of his naked back. A shudder raced down her spine when a specific memory or two assaulted her from their risque night in bed. Finally, she made her way into the bathroom, closing the door in her wake.

Chapter Twelve

The hours between leaving Sander's cabin and waiting to meet him again passed in agonizing slowness. Urmas had informed her upon her arrival back at the castle that he expected his usual morning round of pictures by four that afternoon. He hadn't asked her any questions about where she'd been, or what was going on with her bedroom. She guessed he knew. Of course he knew. He was probably heading up some of the investigation on the inside while Sander worked the outside. Or if Urmas wasn't, then Allar was, and then relaying whatever information onward.

She wondered who knew she hadn't come back to the castle the night before. Most of the guards and perhaps some of the staff. Ingel seemed to know everything that went on under