Page 143 of The Mercy of Dawn

When they had managed to keep their hands off each other for long enough to make it back up to his office, she and Mikael both reached for the bolt on the door. A flicker of amusement danced between them before his hands cupped her face and pulled her to him.

“You're a rake,” she murmured against his lips.

Mikael laughed and abandoned her mouth, kissing his way down her throat as he walked her backward.

“Go on,” he rumbled.

“You can’t keep your—” Those fucking canines grazed her skin and Cyril whined. “—hands to yourself.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

She lost whatever argument she had when his hands gripped her ass and hauled her up onto his desk.

His eyes roved her with a sort of interest she had never been on the receiving end of when he added, “And can you blame me?”

“We have to be careful…”

It wasn’t what she wanted to say, not with the way Mikael was looking at her and how he’d notched himself between her thighs. But she knew if Dion ever found out that this was how she’d spent her time, gods…

He’d rip this bit of happiness away from her in a heartbeat.

“I know, and we will.” Mikael tipped her chin up. “But that means we have to enjoy ourselves when we can, yeah?”

That she could agree with.

Cyril wrapped her arms around Mikael’s neck and, against his lips, she breathed, “Yeah.”

A sharp grin came only moments before the feeling of wood met her back, and Mikael kissed her until she was breathless.

Despite all her whining and writhing, and her needy fingers sinking into his shirt and his hair, the boundary the prince refused to cross was painfully obvious. His broad, strong hands palmed at her breasts and her backside, drawing sinful noises from her, but they never ventured beneath her clothes.

And gods, she wanted them to.

She arched into every touch that felt scorching even through her shirt and reciprocated every subtle rock of his hips, but Mikael wouldn’t fucking budge. And maybe this was her limited experience, but the teasing had gone on for too fucking long.

“Mika, I…”

Cyril finally had enough. He drew back just far enough to give her a curious look, and his eyes flared when she hooked her fingers in the laces of his pants.

She had his attention, at least.

“I want more.”

“Mm. The feeling is mutual, wrath.”

She wasn’t sure if it was possible to get off on the sound of someone’s voice alone, but that…that might have done it.

Mikael grabbed hold of both Cyril’s wrists and eased them up over her head, pinning them to the desk. Her breath caught, and her heart thundered in her chest. This was not helping at all.

His lust-blown, glacial eyes held hers as he said, “I want to bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard you can’t speak, but…some things are worth the wait, aren’t they?”

No, that certainly did it.

Cyril whimpered, and Mikael claimed her mouth in a slow, languid kiss.

“You’re cruel,” she groaned, and a rough laugh left him.

“No, it’s not cruelty.” Mikael wore a lopsided smile as he pulled her to sit up. “Consider it a…test of patience. One that will see you thoroughly rewarded at the end.” He notched his fingers under her chin and chuckled, “Gods, you’re a needy thing. Don’t scowl at me.”