Book 6: What I Must Do

Ella

Ryatt’s eyes are so full of heat my toes curl in my boots as I look up at him, trying to maintain the scowl on my face. He leans in close, whispering in my ear, “Did I not just come inside of you only a few hours ago?”

A shiver runs down my spine and blooms across my belly. I fight the urge to close my eyes as his breath dusts over my skin, his lips brushing against my ear.

“I plan to do that again tonight, Princess.” His hand slides down my belly. “You’re not drinking a single drop of wine from now on.”

“What makes you think I’m not on a contraceptive tonic?” I grind out, and it takes all of my energy to do so. I’m melting into a puddle at his touch and the raw, heated tone of his voice. I’m also exceedingly thankful for the cloak of unnatural darkness around us. Hopefully no one can see, or hear, what he’s saying and doing to me right now, especially as his hand slides lower and into the folds of my cloak.

“You’re not,” he says w