A Promise of Fire (Kingmaker Chronicles, #1)(74)

They whistle enthusiastically, and I can’t help blushing.

“Pretty as a posy. Spin for us,” Flynn says.

I twirl, throwing them a saucy look over my shoulder.

“Come sit on my knee,” Kato says, patting his thigh. “So I can inspect.”

I laugh. “I’m not falling for that.”

Griffin erupts into the room, filling the entire doorway. “What are you doing in here?” He looks me up and down, his tone a mix of disgruntlement and accusation.

Heat floods me at the sight of him. Irritation overrides it. “I was having fun ten seconds ago. Now I’m annoyed.”

“Answer the question,” he grates out.

My hands land on my hips. “Having a wild orgy. You’re not invited.”

His eyes narrow dangerously. He turns to leave, and I know I’m supposed to follow.

“Wait!” I cry in mock alarm. “Where are my underclothes?”

“Gods, Cat!” Flynn visibly pales.

Kato barks a laugh.

Griffin spins back to me. His large hand lands on the nape of my neck with a firm grip, and a jolt of awareness rampages down my spine. I back up when he starts pulling but grab both sides of the doorframe on the way out, hanging on.

“See what I have to put up with?” I ask.

Flynn and Kato exchange a look before returning to their card game.

“Not helpful!” I grind out as Griffin drags me back to my room and tosses me inside.

“What about dinner?” I ask, rubbing my neck.

He closes the door and stalks in after me, caging me against the wall with a muscular arm on either side of my head. “Jocasta said she wasn’t sure.”

I shove his shoulders, which does nothing. “I didn’t dress like this for the refectory.”

His eyes flick down, taking in my appearance. “What were you doing with them?”

His blatant jealousy sends a pulse of heat through me that ends in a completely inappropriate place between my legs. “Talking. They’re my friends.”

“Your team?”

“Yes! Isn’t that what you want?”

An expression I can’t read crosses his face. “Does that mean you’ll stay with us if I release you from your vow?”

My heart thumps an awkward beat. I don’t answer. I don’t know.

He leans toward me, and suddenly all I can think about is his height, his strength, his scent. I go impossibly still, afraid to move because I know I’ll step closer.

“I thought about you all day,” he gruffly admits. “Now, seeing you like this…” He inhales between parted lips, his gaze turning ravenous as it drops to the exposed hollow between my breasts. When he exhales, his breath shudders on the way out.

My reaction is immediate, intense. Some things ignite. Others melt. A deep, almost irresistible pull nearly rocks me toward him. I dread this power he holds over me. It makes me want to tell him all my secrets and see if he still wants me.

I swallow, banishing the thought. “Let me go.”

Griffin’s smoldering eyes lift to meet mine. “I’m not holding you.”

Oh.

Right.

Quite.

I could easily duck under his arm. I wet my lips instead. It’s impossible not to.

The rumble in his chest sets me alight. It’s predatory. Hungry. Griffin lowers his head until his mouth hovers over the curve of my neck. His warm breath curls lazily over my bare shoulder, and a spray of gooseflesh travels down my arm. Anticipation shivers through me, turning my heartbeat wild as a slow burn spreads through my middle, as languid and intoxicating as mulled wine.

His lips brush my shoulder and then skim lower, teasing the sensitive skin along the scooped neckline of my gown. The feathery touch makes me quiver. I plant my hands on the wall behind me, palms flat against the cool stone to keep from reaching for him. My nipples harden, straining against the thin material of my dress. He growls something low and fierce, and then his tongue flicks out.

I gasp, surprise and desire thundering through me. I know exactly where he licked. There’s a freckle high on the inside of my right breast. My breathing turns shallow, almost painful. Griffin’s hands slide down the wall to land on my hips, anchoring me as his mouth moves lower and his lips graze the concealed peak of one breast.

I draw in a sharp breath, feeling both crests stiffen even more. The mounting throb in my core echoes my galloping pulse. The beat of blood and want. My hands ache to touch him, to slip into his hair, to hold him to me for another hot, shocking touch. A moan rises in my throat, and I bite my lip to stifle it, shifting against the growing pressure, against the restless need to press my body into his.

Griffin’s tongue slides over the freckle again, and my knees nearly buckle. His husky voice vibrates against my skin. “I’ve been wanting to taste that for weeks.”

“What does it taste like?” The breathy murmur sounds nothing like me.

“Like a snowflake on my tongue. So cold it burns.” He lifts his head, his eyes searing. “It tastes like magic. And you.”

His hands rise to cup my jaw. Wings unfurl inside my rib cage, bigger and stronger than ever before.

“Don’t kiss me,” I whisper, and the wings stretch in protest.

His thumbs glide over my cheeks in a tender, sweeping caress that makes my chest ache. “Give me one good reason not to.”