“Every thought I have of you is treasonous, the way my hands ache to touch you, deceitful. Even my dreams make me a traitor of my own kingdom.”
“Then stop,” I whispered as I straightened my shoulders. The way he spoke of me as if I was a poison that was infecting every inch of him.
“That’s the thing, princess,” he whispered before his lips pressed against my bare shoulder. “I don’t want to.”