Emyr’s gaze traveled over her naked form before returning to her eyes. “With every breath I take, my love.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss. “If I loved you less, I would have choked you with my bare hands,” he said conversationally, rubbing his nose against hers. “But you know that, or you wouldn’t have dared to sleep next to me.”
Dalatteya didn’t say anything to that. There was nothing to say. She tried not to think what it said about her that she felt perfectly safe sleeping in his arms. The arms of the man who had killed her husband. The arms of the man she had killed and who had every reason to hate her for that.
“Is that all you did to my mind?” she said, knowing better than to trust him.
Emyr nuzzled her cheek and didn’t answer, the bastard.
Dalatteya frowned and opened her mouth to question him further, but he pushed his cock back into her, hard once again, and she sighed in delight, her thoughts scattering.
Nothing made her feel as full and perfect as he did.
And as wretched and disgusting.
Chapter 16
“My mother is acting strange.”
Warrehn opened his eyes and looked down at the violet head resting on his chest.
As always, the sight brought mixed feelings. He knew he should put a stop to this. Kissing was bad enough. This was too much. He should tell Samir in no uncertain terms that his recently acquired tendency to cling to him after sex—to cuddle—was unwelcome.
Except the issue was… it wasn’t unwelcome.
Over the course of the publicity tour, Warrehn had gotten used to them living on top of each other. Due to the security concerns, they hadn’t stayed at hotels often—at least that was the official reason. Privately, Warrehn suspected Ayda just hadn’t wanted to risk the hotel staff coming across them fucking, which, to be fair, wasn’t a baseless concern.
In any case, Warrehn had been forced to share close quarters with Samir for nearly a month. It was natural that he’d eventually gotten used to Samir’s scent being everywhere, used to touching him, and used to sleeping next to Samir or sprawled half on top of him after sex.
He wasn’t sure at what point he’d stopped simply putting up with it and started liking it.
Even thinking about it made him uneasy, but he could no longer deny it. It was hard to remain in denial when he couldn’t sleep alone anymore. He had tried, just to prove to himself that he could, and he never slept well, his bed too empty and cold. He had felt like a kid unable to sleep without his favorite plush toy.
Obviously it was a habit caused by forced cohabitation. It should have gone away once they had arrived home. And maybe it would have gone away if he didn’t continue to feed it by spending the nights with Samir more often than not. He had no excuse for that: the drug’s effects had lessened enough that they didn’t have to fuck at night. But still, he found himself reluctant to leave. Samir was warm and so very soft after sex, and he kept clinging to him, wanting cuddles, wanting kisses, wanting his touch, and it was—it was heady. It was addictive, to be wanted. To be needed.
Warrehn told himself that was all it was. It wasn’t about Samir at all. It was just loneliness. As soon as the drug was out of his system, he’d find himself a lover, someone he could get physical touch and affection from. Someone who wasn’t off-limits. Someone who wasn’t a son of his enemy.
Speaking of the enemy…
“Strange?” Warrehn repeated. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Samir murmured, tracing the side of Warrehn’s torso with his finger. “She’s been weirder than normal. She disappears all the time somewhere and turns up looking thoughtful and distant.”
“Probably plotting my death.”
“It’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Warrehn sighed. “Will you drop the pretense that your mother doesn’t want me dead? It’s just us here.”
Samir folded his hands on Warrehn’s chest and put his chin on them. His dark blue eyes met Warrehn’s, their expression open. “I have no idea what my mother is thinking or planning,” he said quietly. “You may look into my mind if you don’t believe me.”
He looked so sincere. Warrehn stared at him at a loss, feeling his defenses crumble and suddenly wondering if it was Dalatteya’s new tactic: to try to endear her son to him. As much as Warrehn hated to admit it, it was absolutely working. Samir looked so damn endearing and lovely with his pink, swollen lips and sultry eyes still glassy and soft after sex.
“That won’t be necessary,” Warrehn said stiffly. He couldn’t risk delving into Samir’s mind when they had such a strong natural compatibility. He had already noticed that they’d developed awareness of each other due to the prolonged exposure and physical touch. Mental intimacy was the last thing they needed, and it would only make a complicated situation disastrous. “What makes you think Dalatteya is acting strange?”