I couldn’t just leave things as they were. Our evening was going so well before that bastard showed up.

Looking down at her now, I know I wasn’t the only one who felt it. Something changed between us earlier—her walls came down a little. And I was afraid the incident with James Camden would put them right back up again.

But Justine is responding to my touch. Every time my hand moves—even though I’m just barely grazing her body—I hear her breath quicken. When I pull back slightly, looking down into her face again, that flushed glow has come back to her cheeks, and there’s heat in her eyes.

I was telling the truth when I told her I hadn’t read most of her journals—and when I admitted that I’d still read enough to know a few of her most sensitive spots.

“Well?” I ask her. She still hasn’t answered my question.

“I…” Her voice trails off as I lower my head, bringing my mouth to her throat. Slowly, I kiss a path down the side of her neck, pausing right before my lips touch the small hollow at her collarbone. Her breath catches.

I want to drag this out. To tease her until she’s begging me for more. But then I remember her former lover, and I don’t have the patience for such games.

My mouth brushes against her sensitive spot. She makes a small sound—it couldn’t even be called a whimper—and her hand clutches my arm. I smile against her skin, then kiss her again. This time, I open my mouth slightly and let my tongue flick lightly against her. Her nails dig into my arm.

“And that’s only the first spot,” I murmur. My hand slides around her waist, pressing against her lower back. “There are dozens more, and I intend to explore every one of them tonight.”

She doesn’t reply, but her grip tightens and loosens in turn, as if she can’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.

I don’t say a word. Instead, my mouth moves along her collarbone, toward the place where her neck meets her shoulder. I pause there, sliding my tongue across her skin again, and I’m rewarded with a short gasp. I lick her there again.

“William…” Her voice is strangled.

I pull my mouth away from her skin but don’t lift my head. “Yes, Princess?”

She doesn’t respond.

“Tell me what you want,” I murmur. “Tell me.”

When she still doesn’t speak, I straighten and take her hand in mine. Carefully, I lift her hand to my lips and gently kiss her palm. Then the inside of her wrist. I can feel the dance of her pulse beneath the thin skin there. Slowly but steadily, I make my way up her arm, caressing her with my mouth, teasing her as I wait for her to tell me what she wants.

If she doesn’t tell me soon, I don’t know what I’ll do. My body is tense, waiting, aching to grab her and push her up against the wall and bring both of us to the peak of pleasure. But I won’t, not yet. Not until she asks me for it. Until she begs me for it.

“You know,” I say lazily, lowering her arm again. “Things are very different than the last time we shared an intimate moment.”

Her face is still red, her eyes still glowing with what I recognize as desire, but a flicker of confusion moves across her features, followed by irritation.

“This is all because of James, isn’t it?” she says.

Hearing her say his name—right now, of all moments—sends a flash of jealousy through me, but I try to push it aside.

“No, I mean because of your emotions,” I tell her. “Last time, you were distressed—even when you told me what you wanted, I felt like I would be taking advantage.”

Her eyebrow rises. “And this time?”

“This time,” I say, slipping a finger beneath her chin, “I hope you give me every opportunity to take advantage.” I lower my face toward hers, stopping just shy of a kiss. “Ask me for whatever you want, Princess, and I will give it.”

She hesitates, but I’m too close to see her expression. “You want me to beg you.”

“I want you to tell me exactly what you want.” So that I know it’s me you want.

“I begged you last time, and that—”

“As I’ve already said, this isn’t last time. I have no intention of sleeping on the sofa tonight, Princess. And no intention of stopping after merely a taste of you.” My fingers curl gently around her throat. “I’ll tell you what I want, Justine—I want to fuck you. I want to bury myself so deep inside you that you forget your own name, that you forget what it feels like when I’m not there. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to hear you cry out in pleasure and know that I am the source of it.” Heat rises through me, and I pull my face back slightly, trying to restrain myself. “But I won’t do any of that—not until you ask for it.”

“Then maybe you won’t get to do any of it at all,” she whispers.

“Maybe?”

She takes a step back. “Maybe.”

There’s something in her eyes—something almost playful.

She’s teasing me, damn her—she’s toying with me! Somehow I’ve lost the power in this situation, and she’s taking full advantage.

“What will you do if I tell you I want you to leave?” she asks me.

My body tenses. “Do you want me to leave?”

“That’s not what I said. I asked you a question.”

There has to be some way to regain the upper hand, but it doesn’t help that looking at her like this—with her eyes bright and that teasing smile on her lips—just makes my blood burn hotter.

“If you asked me to leave,” I say slowly, “I’d just have to do a better job of convincing you that it would be a shame for both of us.”

“Are you that good at fucking?”

I take a step toward her, closing the distance between us again. “There’s only one way to find out, Princess.”

Her smile never wavers, but she swallows—and that one, tiny reaction tells me I’ve wrestled back some of the power.

“The question is,” I say roughly, reaching up and touching her cheek, “are you brave enough to take that step?”

She stares up at me for a long moment. It feels like an eternity, and I’m barely able to maintain my control—it’s been an uphill battle since the moment I saw her tonight, but even more so since James Camden appeared. My body throbs with the need to make her mine, to prove to both of us that she belongs to me and no one else.

Finally, after what feels like years, she reaches up and grips the back of my neck.

“Show me,” she whispers. And then she pulls my face down to hers.