Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne Page B

glittering, even before I speak again.
    “Now tell me the third stipulation, Ella. I need to know you understand it.”
    She responds inside a beat. Imagine that.
    “After six months, I shall return to Arcadia. My job as Brooke’s secran will be returned to me…and I shall be free to wed a man of my choosing, for whatever reasons I deem acceptable.” An incredulous smile flows over her lips. “Even for love.”
    “Yeah. Even for love.”
    I fight to ignore how good it feels to hear her say it.
    And how fucked-up it feels to force my lips around the same words.
    And how confusing it is to watch shadows invade her gaze again.
    “Of course…I can also choose not to marry at all.” She pulls a corner of her lip under her teeth. Toys with the rivets in the chair’s arm. “Perhaps…simply…take a string of lovers.”
    I don’t miss how she finishes it. Her surreptitious glance, darted through her tawny lashes, is a cock-grabbing mixture of question and flirtation. Why deny her the show she’s looking for? The instant strain through my whole body. The leap of peeved color up my neck, into my face.
    She releases her lip—but instantly wets it. Blinks heavily, clearly perplexed again. Goddammit . My jealousy is actually turning her on, and she doesn’t even realize it. The little sorceress has bewitched herself .
    Maybe she needs a jolt of clarification. Maybe we both do.
    Torch to my kerosene.
    I surge forward, slamming into her, submerging us in the depth of the chair, mashing our mouths in a burst of passion and heat. Not waiting for permission, I lunge my tongue inside too. Mate it with hers in complete, carnal intent. There’s no ambiguity; she knows what I’m thinking: if she signs that contract, the next six months are going to be about purging this from both our systems, in whatever ways it takes. Whatever the fuck this is…
    Right now, I don’t want to explore the options around that answer.
    Right now, I push my knees apart, opening a space for myself between her legs. Our crotches slide and thrust; even through our clothes, the fit is perfect.
    Right now is for ensuring she receives one message only—with complete clarity.
    “Ella…”
    “H-huh?”
    “Why don’t we focus on you enjoying your first lover?”

FOUR
    *
    Mishella
    I blink.
    Once more, very slowly—almost wishing everything around me would click into the same speed. That button is not working. I am caught one step behind, watching as my worldly possessions roll by, stuffed into three suitcases down the narrow strip of asphalt Arcadia calls a tarmac.
    Is this happening?
    This cannot be happening.
    I have surely not done this. Agreed to this.
    I take it back. I take it back!
    The words are so shrill and loud in my head, surely everyone—and I do mean everyone —can hear them, even over the revving engines of Cassian’s private airplane.
    I have never traveled in anything that moves faster than a jeep.
    Ohhhhh crap crap crap crap.
    I gulp hard. Vylet squeals, her face alight with joy. She is accompanied by Brooke, who wears a smile so wide, she has officially inducted herself as the third member of our “sis-friend-hood.” They haul me into a three-way embrace, where our dipped heads form seconds’ worth of a private chat room. The two of them do not waste the time.
    “You know the only reason I’m even agreeing to this is because Samsyn and Evrest vouched for this bozo,” Brooke asserts.
    “And the only reason I agree is because she does.”
    A giggle spurts out. I am not sure if it is due to sheer nerves, their wonder twins of protectiveness thing, or both, but I am grateful for the respite from decorum. “So you both have reminded me. Repeatedly.”
    “Good,” Brooke volleys. “That means you remember the rest of it too.”
    “Sure does.” Vy hip-bumps me. “Give us the rest of it, Mistress Santelle.” When I give nothing but a psshh , she nudges harder. “ The rest of it. ”
    I squeeze her as hard as I can. She