Court of Flowers (Sutherland Book 1)

XLI | Into the Palace

After Sasha's stitches were removed by a much older and more courteous doctor, they allowed another fortnight to pass. Sasha had resumed most physical activities by then.

She could feel the tenderness at the area of her healing wound, but apart from that, Sasha felt entirely different as West pleasured her in bed and allowed her the liberty to participate. His lovemaking was gentle, his kisses tender. Every whisper in her ear gave her a sense of warmth.

Sasha trembled in his arms for the second time that night, his heat her blanket in the cold night air.

His mouth found hers for a lengthy kiss, their breathing dissolved as one. She whimpered against his mouth as his hips moved against her again, igniting another fire, his hunger insatiable, hers unending.

Sleek with sweat, their bodies resumed a dance that was always different but one they mastered every time. He growled against her neck, sucking her skin hard, then nibbling it gently, planting a soft kiss.

His mouth captured her cry of pleasure and they shuddered almost simultaneously. They lingered to savor the moment that was deprived of them—mainly by him—and just felt each other's heavy breathing and the soft slide of skin against skin.

He gently rolled off her and rose on his elbows to kiss her cheek. Panting, he grinned against her jaw. "St. Vincent is indeed a terrific doctor," he said, planting his palm over her wound. "Are you all right?"

"I am wonderful," she smiled, bending her head to kiss his shoulder. Her head fell back against the pillow. Sasha closed her eyes wearing a satisfied smile.

He trailed kisses at the side of her breast. "Would you like a bath?" he asked.

Sasha played with his hair. "Are you daft? At this time of night? Or is it morning?"

He returned to her mouth for a lingering kiss. "Says the woman who sews in the wee hours."

He sat up and pulled her up. She chuckled as she straddled his hips and loosely wrapped her arms around his neck. "This feels a little familiar," she said, sinking into his lap.

He groaned. "As you must feel, darling, I am not ready."

She clucked her tongue. "Men can be quite... slow, would you not agree?"

"I do not feel challenged at all, Sasha, so do not try."

She kissed his mouth. "I am not challenging you."

"This is not a game."

She sensed the serious timber in his voice. She did not respond and instead just kissed him.

When she pulled away, he asked, "What was in the satchel?"

She blinked. "What?"

"You said that when you woke up, you took your satchel and walked to Belcourt. What was in the satchel?"

She smiled. "Nothing. It contained nothing."

"Because you did not want to take anything that would remind you of that afternoon?"

She shook her head. "Because I had nothing to take."

She gave him another kiss and fell back into bed. "What is on your mind?" he asked, hovering above her. "Do not think I do not notice it. You are constantly thinking about something."

She hesitated, biting her lower lip. He kissed it away. "During my last visit to the Library, I found something that we can use to make Gabrielle talk."

He froze above her, then understanding dawned on his face. "You have been holding it back because it is morally wrong."

Her eyes searched his. "I would hate to use it on her."