My breathing slows, and I fight the urge to draw near to him.
His head slowly shakes from side to side. Those hazel eyes flicker between my lips and eyes as he slowly dips his head. “I can’t.”
I’m positive he didn’t come to my room for this or to tell a peculiar tale. Livingston was merely doing what we’ve always done for as long as I can remember when we’re hurting or have something to hide. He’s leading his mind astray from the memories, but he will find a way back to the pain. The war continues to haunt him, and it probably always will.
He steps closer, and I let him. My palms land on the vanity behind me. I tilt my head back as he hovers above me. “I wasn’t going to ask you to leave.”
His gaze drifts from my eyes to my lips, over and over until I inadvertently lick my lips. Groaning, Livingston dips his head. My mouth meets his halfway. His hands remain at his sides. My hands remain on the vanity, but slowly, as he coaxes my mouth open with his tongue, my fingers curl around the material of his shirt, and I pull him closer.
I feel his lips curl into a grin as his knees knock against the stool. My feet slightly lift from the ground.
Livingston walks us to the bed. Only this time, he sits down first with me on top of him. I love this position and everything it brings. I love how Livingston gathers me in his arms, clutching at my clothes. He’s fraught with desire and desperate to reach my skin. The frenzy from our kiss reaches our bodies until I’m feverishly moving against his cock.
Livingston pulls our bodies farther onto the bed. I protest at the absence of his lower body, but I gather some of my senses. He places me back on him while he lies in the middle of the bed, and I keep in mind what I want to do.
Do it. Be bold.
Excited at the possibilities, I lean down and kiss the side of his neck and smell the scent of him.
“I have one burnin’ question to ask you,” I say against his skin.
“Yes?”
“If I am the ward and you’re my guardian, then why do you always speak with me?”
“Because I have to know what you’re doin’.”
“No, that’s not what I was implyin’, Livingston.” I push back and look down. The material of my robe and nightgown became a twisted mess as we traveled up the bed. One shoulder is exposed. “You speak with me, and only me, when you need me.”
With the truth laid bare, Livingston’s shoulders straighten. And for the barest of seconds, his eyes fill with something close to fear. He grins at me and attempts to bring my face down to his. I evade at the last second. “Please, enlighten me. Name one time.”
“You’ve needed me every year of your life.” My voice is casual and light. I toy with the buttons of his vest and undo them as though they’re my own clothing. Livingston lets me. “Of course, you never realized. Kings never do.”
His brows furrow in deep concentration. I’m inching close to the truth, and we both know it.
His hands grip my bottom. My legs spread farther, and he presses me against his cock. Closing my eyes, I moan.
What would he do if I took control? I think of every time I’ve touched him, and his response.
With me, you do what you want.
With my mind made up, I press my palms against his chest. A questioning gaze meets mine as his hands fall to his side. That half-smirk appears as he waits for what I’ll do next.
My heart races because I’m not entirely sure where to start or what I’m doing. But I love this position of power. I know very few women who can say they’ve had the opportunity to take charge of Livingston Lacroix. He never stays with one long enough.
That will not happen with me. “Take off your shirt,” I demand.
Both brows lift, but Livingston obliges. And while I straddle him with my nightgown hiked to my thighs, I watch him take off his clothes. His fingers move fast down his shirt, and when I see all that bare olive skin, my blood tingles in anticipation. Livingston sits up—his face is momentarily close to mine—to slide his hands out of his sleeves. Muscles bunch and flex as he throws the shirt to the ground and lies back on the bed. I stop myself from touching him.
“Your turn,” he says.
My eyes reluctantly look away from his body and meet his hot gaze. “Not yet.”
I untie my robe. Livingston’s eyes are hungry at the chance to see exposed skin that he doesn’t notice my belt gliding out of the loops around my waist.
It’s only when I’m holding the silk in my hands that he arches a brow at me. I return the gesture and lean down. “Trust me?”
If he was a smart man, he would say no because I don’t even trust myself around him. With Livingston, I feel as though I can do anything, and that’s a dangerous emotion.
One corner of his mouth lifts. “Who else would I trust?”
“Then hold your arms above your head.” He obeys my request, giving a short laugh filled with confusion and uncertainty. He tries to lift his head and look at what I’m doing, but can’t.
I’m in the process of tying his hands together and lift my eyes to his. “Trust me, right?”
His head slowly lowers to the pillow, and his eyes become half-mast. My stomach dips at the sight of those light eyes. “Continue.”
I do just that. My heart pounds so hard and fast it feels as though my chest is rattling, but I manage to tie him with impressive knots. He won’t be getting away anytime soon.
“Fool,” I whisper against his lips. With my palms against his bare chest, I lift my upper body and stare down at him.
Livingston appears nonplussed. He’s in bed with a woman. This is his natural habitat. Besides, he thinks he’ll be able to slip free. “You truly believe you’ve tied me up?”
“You truly believe I didn’t?” My eyes veer to the knots around his wrists. “Go ahead. Pull.”
The tug is light, but when he realizes the knot isn’t going to budge, Livingston pulls harder against the bonds, this time with both hands.
He tilts his head back, the veins in his neck straining against his skin as he tries to look at my handiwork. The whole time, he moves his wrists left and right. He can move them every way he pleases, but he isn’t going anywhere. I smile down at him.
As though he can sense my satisfaction, his gaze zeroes in on me. “Untie me. Now.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that. Of course, a lady would. But as you’ve said before, I’m no lady.”
His eyes gleam with the promise of revenge, but also desire. He wants to be furious, but he’s also incredibly aroused.
My fingers move to the top button of my nightgown. Livingston watches the action with a hungry expression as it comes free.
“This is not the first time you’ve intruded into my room,” I say.
“Not true,” he replies, sounding winded. “This is a guest room.”
“Still my private quarters,” I point out and let another button free. “Even if it’s for a short time. Nonetheless, you’re quite the teacher, and I’ve learned a great deal from you.”
Again and again, Livingston’s eyes bounce between my face and my hands. Never lingering in one place for long.
“When the king of seduction is also your instructor on all things sensual, how do you repay him?”