He knew the Sin Corridor would show her no mercy now.
Envy rolled onto his back again, gaze fixed to the ceiling.
His whole body was tensed, waiting.
He tried to focus on what the next clue might be. Solving the riddles and winning the game should be the only worry in his head. And yet… the more he considered Lennox insisting that Camilla accompany him, the more he hated that she was here.
He should have left her in Waverly Green.
If he’d been a better male, he would have. Consequences be damned.
Camilla’s breath shifted, broken by a slight catch.
He swallowed thickly.
And so the long night began.
Now her even breathing turned into little gasps of continual pleasure. His hands curled into fists as they merged into soft moans.
Envy tried to focus on the sleet outside, the howling winds knocking the door against its frame. Anything to avoid thinking of when he’d been between her legs, eliciting those same sounds. One taste of her had been dangerous—it hadn’t remotely sated him.
As if in response, she thrashed against her cloak, rolling to face away from him, in the process exposing her neck. With a soft murmur, she seemed to draw closer to his warmth, her hips rolling until her plump little bottom found his side, where she rubbed against his hip, seeking friction.
She was undoubtedly being tested for lust.
Envy locked his attention on the damn ceiling, attempted to count the grains in the wood. Camilla was stirring again, her hands coursing up her body. Despite being buried below her cloak, he could feel their path as if it were his own. First they were sliding over her hips, pausing atop her quivering stomach, then up onto her breasts, where her fingers cupped her generous curves, no doubt finding pleasure in their tempting give as she squeezed.
Selfishly, he hoped she was seeing him in her sin-fueled dreams.
Recalling how it had felt as he made her come.
Despite his best efforts to be a gentleman, Envy’s cock stiffened.
What he wouldn’t give to push her thighs apart and sink into her, to slam their hips together until they shattered apart. He couldn’t be tested by the Sin Corridor, but in that moment, he’d almost swear he was.
Envy brought a fist to his mouth and bit down hard, but the pain only focused his desire for pleasure.
Camilla was kicking off her cloak now and reaching down, drawing her skirts up, showing off supple skin contained only by silk stockings, made for worshipping.
He could no longer help himself. He watched, rapt, as she circled her hips, lifting them, lost in her phantom lover’s caress. The soft exhale of her breath tangled with the rustling of her skirts, the scent of pine released from their bed with every movement. As if against his will, he felt his hand closing over his erection, stroking atop his trousers in a matching rhythm.
Camilla slowly opened her eyes and, to his surprise, stared straight at him. Seeing his own arousal, she pushed herself up to her knees, maneuvering gracefully as she straddled him, skirts billowing down as she braced her hands on his shoulders. Above her stockings her thighs were bare, and he could feel their smoothness where they tightened against his hips.
“Camilla,” he warned, suddenly alert. “Wake up.”
She smiled at him below her heavy eyelids, the most wonderfully devious, wicked curve he’d ever seen.
“Who says I’m asleep, Your Highness?”
THIRTY
PERHAPS IT WAS a bit wicked, but Camilla was having entirely too much fun torturing the prince lying stiffly beneath her.
He deserved to be toyed with after his lies and trickery. And especially after that stunt to make her jealous. It took her a few moments to realize what he’d been up to; she’d been thoroughly focused on trying and failing not to envy his previous lovers.
Once she pieced together his little game, she was irritated with herself for playing into it. He’d had entirely too much fun, stoking her envy, trying to whisper things to shock and tantalize, to build anticipation and need.
Camilla had been shocked, all right, shocked by how damp the area between her thighs had become at the mere thought of his rakish orders.
So when she had felt the testing tingle of lust, she’d decided to make the most of it. If Envy wanted a show, she’d give him one.
The sin’s influence had long since receded, something she was surprised Envy hadn’t even considered.
Although, feeling his full response to her, she’d almost forgotten this was supposed to be a cheeky repayment. His thick length was pressing against her, so hard and tempting it was difficult to remember where the boundaries of her playacting fell.
If there were any left at all.
She wondered how far they both might go, pretending neither was aware that the Sin Corridor wasn’t responsible for their actions.
Another wicked game.
Her hands drifted back up along her sides, teasing the undersides of her breasts before circling the tight buds at their centers. Her bodice felt tight, constricting, and she could feel her flesh pushing against her neckline, threatening to spill over with her heaving breath.
She lifted herself up, then slowly moved down his body, getting lost in the sensation, the sheer power of him coiled tightly beneath her.
All that raw masculinity, all that animal grace, practically vibrating with barely leashed desire.
This might have started as a game, but she wasn’t pretending to be aroused.
A strangled sound jerked her attention back to the prince, and she glanced down to see Envy’s gaze locked on her, a tortured expression on his face.
He grasped her hips, strong fingers splayed around them, like he couldn’t decide if he should help grind her against him or lift her off completely.
Camilla boldly looked him over, pleased he was still so… affected by her show.
“Camilla.”
Her lips curved. His voice was low and slightly hoarse.
She imagined there weren’t too many people who’d ever turned the Prince of Envy’s own game against him.
“Would you like to know what I was just recalling, Your Highness?” she asked, circling her hips again, writhing up along that glorious length.
“No.”
Liar, she thought.
“The night at Vexley’s, when we fell off the mattress and landed, like this? For a moment, I had wondered what you’d do if I leaned down.” She did so now, her lips hovering so close to his she felt his sharp intake of breath. “I wanted to see if you tasted as sinful as I hoped.”
His throat bobbed and she lightly traced the outline of his mouth with her tongue. It was the shape of fantasies—full and seductive and made for kissing.
“Should I have? Tasted you that night,” she whispered, bringing her mouth to his ear, noticing the trail of goose bumps rising along his flesh.
She didn’t think he was breathing anymore. He looked pained.
Tension wound between them, so taut she wanted to pluck it like a string.
“I want you to answer two questions truthfully, Your Highness. Will you do that? For me?”
His gaze fixed to her face, scanned her eyes, then fell to her lips. His nod was a slight incline of his head, barely noticeable.
“Did you like the way I tasted?” she asked silkily.
He cursed, his grip on her hips tightening, his self-control slipping.
“Yes,” he gritted out.
“Do you think about it?”