Aries

by Gemma James

  “Are you coming back, Sebastian?”

  The very essence of her is sinful, and I’ve never envied another woman until now. Her attention shifts, and when I follow the direction of her gaze, I find Liam standing in the shadows of the hall, arms crossed and mouth grim with displeasure.

  Chapter Nine

  Dinner is unbearable. Tense and silent—only the scrape of flatware on china breaks the disquiet. He said he’s not upset with me.

  Sebastian’s the target of his anger.

  But deep down, I don’t believe him.

  “Why did you want to see me in the library today?”

  For the first time since we sat down at the table, his eyes flick up to meet mine. “Heath needs to fit you for your crown.”

  I blink. “What crown?”

  “It’s Heath’s gift to you. There will be a coronation after the auction.”

  His words are a stark, painful reminder that my days with him are numbered.

  “I rescheduled the meeting. He’s coming to the penthouse tomorrow.” He gives me a pointed look. “You need to be on your best behavior.”

  “Okay.” I go back to pushing manicotti around my plate.

  The ensuing seconds eat away at my composure, and I tap my heel against the floor. The food is flavorless as it slides down my throat.

  “I can’t stand the thought of them touching you.”

  Startled by his confession, I raise my gaze to his. “I can’t stand it either.”

  With the exception of one.

  The tick in Liam’s jaw tells me he knows it too.

  “You’re attracted to him.” Not a question, but a fact that sketches jealousy across his face.

  “I’d rather be here with you than with anyone else.”

  “You only say that because my brothers are unknown territory to you. You’re scared of the unknown.”

  That’s probably true, but there’s no denying my attraction to Liam, or the connection I feel with him. It’s been there from the beginning.

  More silence stews between us.

  Heavy with the things we’ve said.

  And the things we don’t.

  “Tomorrow’s my birthday.” His announcement fractures the spiraling tension, offering a welcome change of subject.

  “How old will you be?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Do you have plans to celebrate?”

  “All of them involve you and the many things we shouldn’t do.”

  “Why shouldn’t we?” I ask, barely breathing.

  “I’m not a patient man, Novalee. You’ll leave my house in a few days, and I won’t be allowed to touch you for the next eleven months.”

  “But you’re the chancellor.”

  “Yes, my word holds the most authority on policy and business decisions, but the Brotherhood’s contract regarding you is outside the scope of that. My only advantage is having you first.”

  I gnaw on my lip, afraid to voice my next question. “What happens if you do…touch me…when I’m under someone else’s authority?”

  “Touching you without permission?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Corporal punishment, at the least…”

  “And at most?”

  “My right to bid in the auction could be revoked.”

  My mind flashes to yesterday when Sebastian had me against the wall. “Is that why you’re furious with Sebastian? Because he touched me?”

  “He crossed a line, but he didn’t engage in a sexual act with you.” He pauses a beat, fingers tapping his annoyance on the table. “That’s me showing my penchant for jealousy.”

  I like that he’s jealous. It’s a shameful thing to admit, even to myself. “What constitutes a sexual act?”

  “Jesus,” he mutters, letting out a breath. “Touching your breasts or other intimate areas, kissing, using you for pleasure…” He raises his eyes to the ceiling as if praying for fortitude. “Straight up sex.”

  “Liam.” The softness of his name on my lips brings his focus back to me, and I feel my face redden with heat. “I want those things with you.” It’s a brazen confession—one I can’t believe I put into words.

  “If I touch you…really fucking touch you…I don’t know how I’ll keep my hands to myself until the auction.”

  Dinner is forgotten between us on the table, cold and tasteless. The only thing I want to taste is him. I pull up the memory of his cock in my mouth, and the resulting ache is so intense that I squeeze my thighs together.

  “What’s going through your head?” he asks as if he senses the direction of my thoughts.

  “That first day in the library, when I was on my knees…” I pause, hesitant to continue. “I was thinking of how I’ve wanted to do it again.”

  Muttering a curse, he stands. “You can’t help but tempt me.” He picks up our plates and heads toward the kitchen where Selma waits, out of earshot to give us privacy. “I have some work to finish before bed. You should get some sleep too.”

  That’s the last I see of him all evening. I take a bath with the latest fantasy novel I’m caught up in, but not even reading about dragons and curses distracts my mind from Liam Castle.

  I’m tempted to slide my hand between my legs to find relief, but I don’t.

  Because he forbade it.

  And I want that first with him.

  I want him to take it so the others can’t.

  I want him to win the auction, too, so the others have no chance of stealing my virginity.

  Sleep doesn’t come easy. I toss and turn for hours, wracked by images of twelve sets of hands touching me, punishing me, using me for their pleasure.

  The reality is terrifying, the pictures in my head irrevocable. I’m certain I’ll be up all night plagued by duty and destiny…

  Until the bed shifts, and I realize I dozed off. At first, I think I’m caught between that weird moment between deep sleep and the more restless, partially alert variety. The kind of slumber where you twitch and it feels like someone’s sitting on the bed. It’s an eerie sensation, feeling a phantom weight when you know you’re alone.

  Except…I’m not alone.

  With a gasp, I lurch upright, and a firm hand sends me sprawling to the mattress again.

  “Do you know what time it is?” Liam’s voice hovers only inches away in the darkness, his tone infused with the lustful rasp I crave.

  I swallow hard, caught off-guard. “The middle of the night?”

  “It’s past midnight.”

  His speech is off, slower than usual and lacking inhibition. If I couldn’t tell by his mannerisms, the spiciness of whiskey in the air is telling enough.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “I never drink to excess. I’m merely armed with the right amount of celebratory scotch.”

  “What are you celebrating?”

  “My birthday.”

  My gaze darts to the nightstand and the green glow of the numbers on the clock sitting there. It’s past midnight, indeed.

  I make out the outline of his face in my darkened quarters. “Happy Birthday, Chancellor.”

  The bed shifts again as he sits on his haunches, and then his hands are on my chest, knuckles skimming my ribs as he tears my pajama shirt from breast to navel. Buttons go flying. He lifts me long enough to remove the ruined top, and my nipples peak as if expecting the heat of his gaze.

  The warmth of his mouth.

  The pinch of his fingers.

  His hands drift over the sensitive buds, and I can’t help but arch into his warm palms.

  “Have you touched yourself without my permission, Novalee?”

  I moan a “no,” my body begging for more. Begging for what he’s refused to give me.

  “If I make you come, I want something from you in return. Consider it a birthday request.”

  “Anything.”

  “For the next eleven months after you leave my house, I want your word that you won’t touch yourself when you’re alone.”

  “What if
I’m ordered to touch myself?”

  “That’s out of our control. But what you do when you’re alone…” He braces himself above me and dips his head, mouth grazing my ear. “That’s up to you, and I want you to promise me your fingers won’t come in contact with your beautiful pussy.”

  “You’ll make me come?”

  “All night long, my sweet girl.”

  I shudder in the circle of his arms. “What if I’m thinking of you when I touch myself?”

  “Those are fighting words.” He groans, and then his mouth covers mine, the weight of his body pressing us into the mattress as he plunders my mouth. I thrust my fingers into his thick hair, pulling at the strands as I wrap my legs around his waist. The position brings us together in an explosive way, his hardness against my softness.

  Tearing away with a painful groan, he crawls to the end of the bed and grabs my ankles. Next thing I know, I’m sliding down the mattress. He hefts me over his shoulder and carries me from my quarters to his. The door barely makes a sound as it shuts us away, alone, in the one place I’m not allowed.

  The place where he sleeps.

  The place he swore he wouldn’t have me until after we’re married.

  He pushes his pajama pants down his legs and kicks the clothing free. I freeze, ogling his glorious naked body. Guided by moonlight, I take him in from the definition of his biceps to the muscular build of his thighs.

  And everything in between.

  Breaths shallow and thready, I dart my tongue out to wet my lips. His nostrils flare, and a low growl emanates from his throat. He’s at his most base self, raw and animalistic and struggling to hold himself in check.

  “If it weren’t for the contract,” he says, fisting his hands at his sides, “I’d make you bleed for me. Only me, Novalee.”

  But there is a contract, and we’re both bound by it.

  He takes a step closer, eating up the inches between us, and the spiciness of his cologne infuses my nose. His rough breathing fills my ears. I crane my neck to meet his eyes.

  “I’m yours…however you want me.”

  “I want you naked.”

  He issues the demand with soft-spoken patience, but I sense the urgency in him as I remove the last of my clothing. It’s the same desperate need rushing through my veins, heating my blood to boiling. As soon as we’re both without clothing or shame—without reservation or doubt—I drop to my knees and put my mouth on him. I don’t think about it. Don’t question it.

  All I know is I’ve longed to taste him again.

  His fingers stab through my hair, and instead of pulling me closer, he yanks me back. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I want to watch you come first.” He pulls me into his arms and carries me up the platform to his bed. “Do you trust me?”

  My answer is immediate. “Yes.”

  He sets me on the edge, and I brace my hands behind me, my focus glued to his every move. Standing between my thighs, he wraps his hand around his cock. The vision of him, cast in silhouette from the night, conjures the likeness of Adonis, the god of beauty and desire.

  Because he’s full of both and the keeper of seduction as he rubs the head of his shaft between my folds, spreading my wetness.

  His trophy.

  “Liam,” I groan as my strength flees, leaving me trembling and unable to prop myself on my arms. I fall to the mattress and clutch the bedding. My skin flushes hot.

  Too hot.

  I’m about to combust.

  “What are you doing to me?”

  “I’m keeping your body pure. Your head and heart are another matter.”

  With one hand, he braces above me and angles his mouth over mine. The glorious friction between us intensifies. Sweat and lust drench my skin, and I can barely form a thought. All I can do is moan his name against his lips, over and over again as the head of his cock rubs me to madness.

  “Liam!” Back bowing, I fist the blanket, and my upper body rises off the mattress. Everything below the waist is owned by him.

  “That’s it,” he groans. “Come on my cock. Come on it hard, my sweet girl.”

  He doesn’t stop the friction until the last intense wave releases me. I’m floating on some ethereal cloud of completion when he pulls me up by my noodle-like arms.

  “Down,” he says with a nod to the floor.

  Too wrecked to stay on my feet anyway, I slide to the floor, knees buckling, and he pushes into my waiting mouth. The combined taste of us is a taboo treat on my tongue. I’m delirious as he thrusts his way to release, smashing the back of my head into the side of the mattress. I splay my hands on his thighs, nails biting into his skin.

  Because I’m trapped, sandwiched between the mattress and the furious need driving his cock into my throat.

  “Damn,” he chokes out, followed by another string of expletives that launch from his lips. A shudder seizes his muscles, thighs going tense under my hands.

  Then he surrenders, his grasp on my hair a painful burn as he shoots his seed down my throat.

  And I never thought I’d witness the day when Liam Castle would cry out my name.

  Chapter Ten

  Naked bodies. Satin sheets. A decadent sense of satisfaction when I open my eyes and find his gaze on me. I stretch, sliding my leg between his. “What time is it?”

  “Almost lunchtime.”

  I’m not surprised since we were up until the wee hours of the morning discovering each other’s bodies. I now know that nibbling on his earlobe makes him hard. Running a hand down his abs to his belly button makes his breath stutter. Dragging a finger along the length of his cock makes it twitch.

  Putting it in my mouth makes him lose his mind.

  I made him lose his mind more than once.

  He discovered things about me, too. Things I didn’t know about. Like when he traced my areola, and it tickled instead of aroused. Or how anticipation shook my bones when he trailed his tongue up my inner thigh. How soft and silky his hair was in my fingers as I clutched him between my legs.

  How I pulsed on his tongue for what seemed like forever.

  It was a magical night—one I wish had never ended—because the faint ticking of his watch is a constant reminder that time doesn’t slow down for anything.

  Rolling me to my back, Liam presses me into the mattress. “How am I going to let you go?”

  “Don’t let me go.”

  “You know I don’t have a choice.”

  “Will I see you…after I leave?” My finger traces a path over the curve of his shoulder.

  “I’ll make sure you do.” A shadow darkens his features. “But we’ll have to keep our hands to ourselves. We definitely can’t do this.” He presses his warm lips to mine, tongue seeking entrance, and I sigh into his kiss.

  How will I make it eleven months? It seems like an eternity.

  Liam breaks the kiss, and I ask the question that hurts my heart the most. “What if you don’t win?” I can’t bring myself to think of the possible outcomes. All twelve of them.

  How can it be anyone but him?

  “I don’t want you to worry about that now.” He holds me by the chin. “A lot can happen between now and then. You could fall in love with someone who isn’t me.”

  A contemptuous blue gaze invades my mind, unwelcome and unwanted.

  “You’re the one I want.”

  “I’m the one you’re comfortable with. You haven’t had the chance to get to know my brothers.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you having second thoughts about winning the auction?”

  “No.” His thumb plays on my lower lip. “But if I’m not who you want by the time the auction arrives, then I won’t compete to win.”

  “Am I not worth fighting for?”

  “You are, my sweet girl.” He pulls away and sits at the edge of the bed. “But your happiness is worth more to me than winning.”

  I sit up, tugging the sheet to the top of my breasts, suddenly unsure and shy. He didn’t ta
ke my virginity last night, but he might as well have. He stole a piece of my soul I’ll never get back. “I want it to be you, Liam.”

  “If you still feel that way eleven months from now, I’ll do everything in my power to ensure it’s me.” He stands and takes a step forward, keeping his back to me. “I need to shower and dress. You should do the same. Heath will be here in an hour.”

  He disappears into the bathroom and shuts the door, and it’s like a wall coming down between us all over again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dressed in a black chiffon skirt and a sleeveless top, I perch on the lounge in the main sitting room. By all appearances, I’m prepared to face the day, makeup flawless and hair silky smooth. Anyone sending a cursory glance my way would think I was ready for this meeting with the man who will reign over me in the coming weeks.

  But I’m not.

  “Stop your fidgeting, my sweet girl.” Liam gently scolds me from his chair.

  Only then do I realize the rhythmic bounce of my foot, one crossed over the other. I cease the nervous movement just as Selma appears in the archway.

  “Chancellor, Mr. Bordeaux is here to see you.”

  Liam nods. “Send him in.”

  She steps out of view, and the man I remember from the dinner and medical exam takes her place. He’s taller than Sebastian, but a few inches shy of Liam’s six-foot frame. His expensive black suit, meticulously pressed, doesn’t have a wrinkle in sight. There’s an undeniable seriousness about him…and a coldness that makes me shiver.

  His hazel eyes zero in on me. “My queen.”

  I dip my head. “I’m unsure of how I should address you.”

  “Mr. Bordeaux will do.” He waltzes into the sitting room and settles next to me on the lounge.

  Liam hasn’t moved an inch. He’s as stoic as the man next to me.

  “I assume the chancellor informed you of the reason behind this visit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, Mr. Bordeaux,” he corrects, mouth sloping into a frown. “And I expect you on your knees when you greet me in the future.” He shoots Liam an irritated glance. “In fact, she should be in that position now.”