The Princess and The Jester - A.D. McCammon Page 0,21

until we’re already locked inside. Fear flashes in her eyes as I slink back over, but those maple syrup orbs are swirling with lust by the time I’m staring down at her.

“Well, I can’t be sure,” I mock, eyeing the mess she dumped on my bed before my gaze settles on her again. “But it looks like a pile of dirty old rags to me.”

“Are you deranged?” Her hand sparks a flame on my bare chest as she shoves me, the unexpected contact sending me stumbling backwards. “You can’t just go into my bedroom and go through my things.”

This time when her hand lands on me, I puff out my chest and push back against it.

She keeps it planted, her fingertips digging into my skin as she continues. “And you definitely don’t have any right to play the jealous possessive boyfriend card with me either.”

I put my hand over hers to keep it in place, jerking her forward until the gap between us is closed. “That’s funny. Isn’t that the exact reason you wore it in the first place? You wanted me to get mad, to stake my claim. Don’t dare me to take what’s mine unless you mean it, Princess.”

“I don’t belong to you,” she sneers, tugging free of my hold. “We haven’t been anything to each other for a long time.”

My lips curl despite the tic in my jaw. I’m tempted to throw her on the bed and prove how wrong she is, but my fisted hands stay at my sides. “No? Tell me then, why have you been harassing Violet?”

“I haven’t done anything to your precious fucking saint.”

The disdain in her voice makes me laugh. There’s no question about it. Gwen is extremely jealous of Violet. After my conversation with Phantom Girl a few minutes ago, it’s clear she thinks something is going on between us.

Gwen steps to the side, but I follow her movement. “If you’re going to make a habit out of lying, you might want to get better at it.”

“Whatever, I don’t have to listen to this shit.” She tries again to go around me, gritting her teeth when I block her. “Let me go, Cole.”

There’s no conviction behind her words, they’re merely for show. Everything else about her says she’d very much like to stay in this room with me—the budding nipples peeking through the thin material of her top, the blush on her skin, the hitch in her breath.

I tsk my tongue and shake my head, reaching up to toy with the spaghetti strap on her shoulder. “Not quite yet. We still have unfinished business.”

She lets out a shuddering breath as my fingertips glide down the lace adorning her chest. “There’s nothing to discuss.” Her reply is chopped and distant, as if her mind is somewhere else entirely. “I told you, I didn’t do anything to Violet.”

“We both know that’s not true, but I’m talking about what you started in the kitchen yesterday.” My hand slides into her tank top, cupping her bare breast. Her eyelids droop, head wobbling as I roll her nipple with my thumb. “That’s the real reason you came in here, isn’t it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she pants, making no attempt to shy away from my touch.

My other hand dives into her soft mane, forcing her head back as I lean in. “When are you going to start telling me the truth?”

“When are you going to accept it?”

My mouth slams into hers, and her lips part without probing. There’s a strangled noise in the back of her throat as our tongues collide. It sounds like a plea for mercy, but my kiss isn’t forgiving. This is a battle of wills. The only way for her to survive is to relent.

She won’t merely bend to me, she’ll bow.

Her arms hook around my shoulders and my hand moves down to her ass, squeezing as I pull her body to mine. She breaks free of my mouth, sucking in deep breaths as if she’d been drowning in me.

I chuckle, my lips delivering a teasing kiss on the sensitive spot below her ear before whispering, “Ready to admit you want me yet?”

She makes a feeble attempt to free herself from my hold, weakly pressing on my chest. “You’re such an asshole.”

I tweak her nipple harder, and she closes her eyes. Her palms mold to my skin as they wander, reading my body like Braille.

My hand dips into her waistband and travels around her hip to the front of her shorts. She’s not wearing